


For Want Of A Nail

by LadyWinterlight, ozhawk



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious consent (off-screen), Episode Related, Episode tags listed in chapters, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Evil Grant Ward, F/M, HYDRA serum, Human Experimentation, Rumlow porn, Rumlow redemption, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Super-soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 67
Words: 204,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3787324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWinterlight/pseuds/LadyWinterlight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozhawk/pseuds/ozhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>We do not own these characters, nor are we seeking in any way to profit from this work.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. First Days Always Suck

**Author's Note:**

> We do not own these characters, nor are we seeking in any way to profit from this work.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozhawk: This premise came about following a conversation with Oricke, a reader of mine on fanfiction.net who’s a big RumSkye fan. She wanted a fic where Skye doesn’t believe she’s Rumlow’s soulmate and he has to convince her into it.  
> The problem was, the point at which I felt they could meet was really early in Season 1 of Agents of SHIELD. And the very fact of their meeting would change EVERYTHING from that point onwards. I loved the idea, but I set it aside as just too big to deal with.  
> Until Lady Winterlight and I were chatting one day and I asked her if she’d be interested in writing a collaborative fic with me. And presented the notes I had on this AU for her inspection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, we are 60,000 words and 20 chapters in, and we’ve just about arrived at the beginning events of Season 2. We do plan to cover the whole of Season 2, and Age of Ultron, and more after that, so you can see this is going to be a looooong fic. The intention is to post twice a week at the moment, at least until we know where the story is going to end. Living in drastically separated time zones and dealing with real life issues mean we can’t write every day and we don’t want to commit to a posting schedule we can’t maintain.  
> That said, I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed writing anything as much as I’ve enjoyed this collaboration. I’m not sure the story could have been written at all (and it wouldn’t have been one tenth as good) without both of us working together, thrashing out the plot points and all the tiny changes that lead to much bigger ones along the road.
> 
> Winter: One day, Ozhawk and I were chatting about fics and she brought this idea to me, asking if I would be interested in collaborating with her on it. The very concept of changing the details of series, movies, etc is really much too large an undertaking for any one person. I certainly wouldn’t have tried it on my own either. But together… the daunting project began to seem possible.  
> It has been a VERY long time since I wrote collaborative fic, and I hadn’t realized just how much I missed it. I have had (and continue to have) a blast working with Ozhawk on this, and we’ve fallen into a great rhythm of trading ideas and viewpoints, working out the tiny details of what changes would affect other things down the line. I don’t think either of us could have done it alone, but “A man can achieve great things when he realizes he’s part of something bigger.”
> 
> The events of this chapter occur in the time gaps immediately following the end of Season 1, Episode 1 (Pilot) and Episode 2 (0-8-4).

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/skimmons_zpsbdymuoms.jpg.html)

Skye sat in the lab with FitzSimmons as the latter two documented the formula they'd created to temporarily stabilize Mike’s Centipede reaction. She listened to the tech-babble and tried to look interested. Other than Coulson, these two seemed the friendliest of this team and she figured she might as well at least try to interact.

Being the new kid in school _always_ sucked.

At least she and Simmons had one thing in common; unlike the rest of the team, they each had a soulmark. There'd been a box on the form she'd had to fill in to be employed as a consultant for SHIELD, and Jemma had noticed when Skye ticked it, and immediately remarked that she had a soulmark too. Skye had never met anyone else who had one, let alone who had found their opposite. Hopefully they could at least commiserate over so-called destiny, once Simmons was done with her report.

Pulling out her phone, Skye browsed through a couple of message boards while she waited. Nothing Rising Tide related, just a couple of places she liked to lurk about. Sometimes people posted the strange things that happened, and she was curious if anything had popped up about Mike. It was going to be a long flight to Peru.

Or - possibly not all that long. _How fast was this plane even going, anyway?_ She shook the thought off. Time enough to investigate that later.

“Hey, Skye,” Jemma nudged her arm lightly, and she looked up to see the other girl smiling at her shyly. “We’re done here. You want to come get something to eat? We might as well eat now, we’ll be landing in a couple of hours.”

“Sure,” she shrugged amiably and followed Jemma up to the plane’s surprisingly well-equipped kitchen, watched as Jemma efficiently made sandwiches.

“Don’t eat too heavy. Don’t want anyone drowsy on the mission,” Agent Ward warned, walking past. Skye suppressed the urge to roll her eyes only because he was staring at her.

“Robot,” she muttered to Jemma once he was out of earshot. Jemma giggled.

“He is a bit. Here,” she passed over a plate. “So,” she said rather excitedly, “what does the name on your soulmark say? Where is it? Is it somewhere embarrassing? Mine’s on my chest, not too low down, but, well…” she brushed the upper curve of her breast. “I don’t flaunt it, you know. His names is James. Which is nice, don’t you think, James and Jemma?”

Skye smiled. “That’s kind of cute. But you haven’t met him?”

Jemma shook her head. “And it’s quite a common name. Unfortunately. I think I’ve met nearly every SHIELD agent called James, anyway. And I checked the SHIELD databases, but never found any James with a registered soulmark of a Jemma…”

“Maybe I could hack a few more databases for you,” Skye mused thoughtfully.

“Oh, well, maybe you shouldn’t,” Jemma demurred. “I wouldn’t want that kind of trouble just for me.”

Skye grinned. “Okay. How about if the next time I’m hacking other databases, I just take a look on the side for you? If I’m already into something Coulson knows about, it can’t hurt to check for one little extra thing, right?”

“Um, well, no, I suppose it can’t hurt too much,” Jemma agreed reluctantly. “It’s not that I don’t want to know, because I do, but...”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Skye said, backtracking a bit. It wouldn’t be smart to push too hard too soon. “I won’t get you into trouble over it. Mine’s on my lower back, just above the waistband of my jeans, so not too embarrassing,” she went on, answering some of Jemma’s earlier questions.

“Oh, that’s not so bad,” Jemma brightened when the conversation moved back to less illegal - or at least against regulation - topics.

“No, it’s not. But I don’t like to flash it around, either. Brock is a pretty unusual name, but names can be faked or changed and so I’d really rather not let people see it before I know who they are.”

Jemma nodded her understanding. “Well, I could check the SHIELD database for you if you’d like. See if anyone comes up with a soulmark name of Skye.”

“If you want, I suppose that would be okay,” Skye agreed with a shrug. “Can’t hurt; if nothing else, it rules out running into my soulmate at a SHIELD base somewhere.”

“Or you could learn who to look for,” Jemma argued brightly. “Think positively, Skye.”

“I just don’t want to get my hopes up,” Skye answered quietly. “It hurts too much to be disappointed.”

“Oh, Skye,” Jemma breathed, her expression sympathetic. “It’ll get better. Soulmarks are rare; if you have one, you’ll almost certainly meet him someday. It’s been theorized that more people would have them if the circumstances were right to bring people together. There are in theory more people with them now that we have global travel, though we’ve also only been tracking them for a limited time so it hasn’t really been proven yet.”

“It’s okay, Simmons,” Skye broke in gently. “I get it. I’ll try to think positive, okay? Maybe we will meet someday.”

“So shall I search the database after lunch?” Jemma asked brightly.

“No time,” Ward said dourly, walking back in the other direction, now loaded up with weapons. “Need to get ready for the mission, have a briefing.”

“Party pooper,” Skye muttered under her breath. Jemma started giggling again and the two shared a conspiratorial smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Peru, everything was so crazy both Skye and Jemma almost forgot about the conversation. The Bus was sitting on the runway at the Slingshot, the final repairs being completed, when Jemma suddenly said;

“That’s right, I was going to check the SHIELD database to see if we could identify your soulmate!”

“You have a soulmark?” Fitz, the only other person in the lab with them, lifted his head with an interested expression.

“Yes. But it occurred to me, Jemma, that there’s no point in you running a search. Skye’s not my birth name. I don’t know what my real birth name is, if I was even given one. The nuns named me Mary-Sue, but…” Skye shrugged. “I wasn’t a newborn when I was taken there.”

“Oh,” Jemma sagged a little with disappointment. “What a shame. So even if we found someone called Brock with a soulmark, we’d have no way of knowing if he was your soulmate? I suppose the only way you _would_ know, then, is to show him and see if he could identify his writing.”

“I s’pose,” Skye shrugged again. “Good thing Brock’s not all that common a name, hmm, or I’d be flashing my mark at a lot of guys!”

Both Jemma and Fitz started laughing at that.

They’d just calmed when Coulson came down the stairs and into the lab, pausing just inside the doorway. “Stow your projects for now,” he told them. “We’ve got a new mission; we’ll be leaving as soon as repairs are finished. We’ll brief as soon as we’re in the air.”

“Yes, sir,” FitzSimmons answered in unison.

“Where are we going?” Skye asked curiously.

Coulson gave her a tight smile, his expression strained. “I’ll tell you when everyone’s together at the briefing.”

“Briefing?” May asked as she strode up the ramp.

“Once we’re in the air,” Coulson deterred her. “How long until repairs are complete?”

“About ten minutes,” May replied.

“Okay. I want us off the ground as soon as possible. Coordinates are already in the cockpit.”

May nodded acceptance and moved straight to the stairs. FitzSimmons began clearing away their projects for takeoff. Coulson gave Skye another small smile. “If you see Ward on his way in, let him know about the briefing as well.”

“Will do,” Skye agreed. She moved out of the lab and sat on the steps, waiting for Ward’s return.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once the all-clear was given and May was able to engage the autopilot, the team met in the command center. Skye stood beside Jemma and the two exchanged a glance as they waited for Coulson to begin speaking.

“We’ve been given orders to retrieve a STRIKE team,” Coulson began, his manner businesslike, but Skye noted some tension around his eyes. “Their plane developed mechanical complications and they’re going to go down over hostile territory. We’re the only unit near enough to get to them before that happens.”

“So what’s the problem?” Ward asked.

“This STRIKE team has Captain America with them,” Coulson said grimly. “Since I’m still under orders to keep off the Avengers’ radar, he can’t know that I’m on board.” His attention turned to May. “For the duration of their time here, I will be the one flying the plane. May will be nominally in command of the team; the STRIKE Team leader, Agent Rumlow, will be aware of the full situation. But he is also under orders to obey security clearance protocols.”

“So,” Ward summarised, “while they’re on board, Agent May is in command and your name is not to be mentioned, is that correct, sir?”

“That’s correct,” Coulson nodded to Ward.

“I didn’t know you could fly the Bus, sir,” Fitz said in surprise.

Coulson smiled tightly. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Agent Fitz. I won’t pretend to be Agent May’s equal as a pilot, but I’m quite capable. As far as you are all concerned, if anyone should ask, the pilot is Agent Colin Phillips and he’s the solitary type. Clear?”

They all nodded in agreement, and Coulson left to head for his office - to hide his Captain America memorabilia, Skye guessed. She couldn’t help but speak up. “Excuse me? Nobody addressed the really important point here. _Captain America_ is coming on board? Will we get to meet him?”

“Cosplaying fangirl,” Ward muttered grimly under his breath. May gave him one of her Looks, and he pursed his lips.

“Yes, Skye, you’ll get to meet him,” May said with a slight sigh. “They’ll be on board for a good six hours before we’ll be able to drop them off. Can I ask you three to prepare some food? There’s eight STRIKE team members plus the Captain, they’ll be hungry.”

“Of course, Agent May!” Jemma was on her feet at once. “I’ve heard all about Captain Rogers’ enhanced metabolism, I’ll make sure there’s plenty of food. I wonder - do you think it would be very presumptuous if I asked him some questions? Purely scientific, obviously…”

There was a blush on the English scientist’s pale cheeks that Skye was fairly sure had nothing to do with science. She wasn’t going to point it out, though. Her face was still red after Ward’s _fangirl_ crack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this fic comes from the old rhyme. The following version is attributed to Benjamin Franklin, but the gist of the rhyme has been about since the Middle Ages at least.  
> “For want of a nail the shoe was lost,  
> For want of a shoe the horse was lost,  
> For want of a horse the rider was lost,  
> For want of a rider the battle was lost,  
> For want of a battle the kingdom was lost,  
> And all for the want of a horseshoe-nail.”  
> TV Tropes says the following about it:  
> The For Want of a Nail trope as used in popular culture. A story in which one small change has a ripple effect, resulting in massive changes.  
> Which is exactly what we’re getting at here. The changes start out small and subtle but are going to get bigger as we get deeper into the story. Hang on tight, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride...


	2. Awesome Eye Candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Rumlow meet for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur in the time between the end of Season 1 episode 2 and the beginning of episode 3._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumlow%20hallway_zps2cvabbm8.jpg.html)

Fitz, Jemma and Skye had managed to put together a fairly large meal by the time the Bus made contact with the STRIKE team. There were a variety of sandwiches, a big bowl of chips and a large salad. Jemma was putting the finishing touches on the salad while Skye poured sauce into a large pot of cooked pasta. Fitz was slicing garlic bread on the other end of the counter. They intended to turn the counter into a buffet as soon as they were finished.

The loud thunk of another plane docking with theirs was the first sign that they needed to finish up. Jemma and Fitz quickly cleared away the remnants of their preparation while Skye set out plates and silverware. They had just barely finished when the low murmur of men’s voices reached them.

“Go get food while Cap and I speak with Agent May,” they heard one man say just before a group of men filed into the kitchen. Skye and Jemma exchanged a glance and a smile, then turned their attention to helping the STRIKE team find everything they needed. It didn’t take long.

Skye slipped out of the kitchen when she realized that Jemma’s people-wrangling skills were almost as good as Coulson’s. She needed the breather before she got testosterone poisoning. The STRIKE team members were all buff, athletic men - way more eye candy than she’d ever had access to at one time - but they could be a bit much all at once.

She could hear Jemma giggling a bit breathlessly, glanced behind her to check on her friend. Not that she thought any of the STRIKE guys would do anything more than flirt. They might have hungry eyes but they’d all displayed impeccable manners so far. Yes, Jemma was perfectly fine, smiling pink-cheeked up at the tallest of the black-clad commandos. Rollins, he’d introduced himself as.

Boots behind her made Skye turn again, to see another man in black coming down the spiral steps from Coulson’s office. Not quite as tall as Rollins, this one had even wider shoulders, black hair and an indefinable air of command about him. This must be Agent Rumlow, Skye thought, and found herself standing a little straighter as hard dark eyes swept over her in a comprehensive assessment.

A little unsure of what to do, she offered a slight smile and a nod as he came to a stop at the foot of the stairs. “The food’s this way, sir,” she said politely, gesturing towards the kitchen.

“Thank you,” his eyes took in her obviously civilian clothes, “miss.”

She couldn’t quite help but watch the way he moved as he walked past her, her eyes sliding down to check out his ass.

 _Oh. Wow. That was - that was quite a view._ Skye licked suddenly dry lips and looked away. Jemma slipped out of the kitchen then and came to her side.

“You abandoned me, you beastly thing!” she fanned herself, peeking back around the door. “Goodness. Was that Commander Rumlow, who just went in?”

“I assume so,” Skye answered, trying not to laugh at Jemma’s antics. “Since I’m pretty sure we’d both recognize Captain Rogers. Really, though, I needed to escape for a minute before I drowned in testosterone. Still, the eye candy is awesome, isn’t it?”

“Oh, my, yes,” Jemma agreed, her eyes still on the kitchen’s occupants.

“I’m sure they’d be perfectly happy to tone it down if you wanted to join them,” a voice spoke up from behind them. Jemma squeaked in surprise; Skye whirled around, putting herself between her friend and the voice. And found herself looking up - and up - at none other than Captain America. Who was studying her right back, his expression torn between amusement and embarrassment - and perhaps a touch of approval that she’d moved to protect her friend?

“Oh, wow. Really, wow. You have gorgeous eyes,” Skye said, her gaze drawn up to that feature, though she got quite a look at his muscular form on the way up.

“Skye,” Jemma hissed reprovingly as the man blushed.

“Like you didn’t look, too,” Skye muttered as Jemma moved past her to greet the Captain. Jemma just shot her a look.

“Pardon us, Captain Rogers. We didn’t... didn’t mean for anyone to overhear,” she apologized, trying not to stumble over her tongue as she spoke.

“It’s alright, miss..?” He paused, waiting for Jemma to supply a name as he held out his hand.

“Simmons. Agent Jemma Simmons, biochem.”

“Pleased to meet you, Agent Simmons.” He shook her hand lightly, then extended the same courtesy to Skye.

“I’m sure the pleasure is all ours,” Skye said as she shook the Captain’s hand as well. “I’m Skye; the team’s computer consultant.” It was the nicest way of saying that she was only nominally part of the team. She figured it wouldn’t take anyone long to dismiss her as a civilian anyway.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Skye,” he smiled.

Jemma’s brain apparently completely failed in the face of too much masculinity, Skye realised, as she almost pushed the captain into the kitchen, babbling about how she hoped there was enough to eat.

Skye followed, shaking her head ruefully. She could see some of the STRIKE team looking around and realised they’d forgotten to put out drinks. “Water bottles in here,” she murmured to one commando, opening the fridge. He nodded at her and started taking out bottles, passing them around.

Skye got a slightly itchy sensation on the back of her neck and turned her head to find Rumlow watching her. He was leaning against the counter, arms folded, his head tilted very slightly as he stared. She suppressed an urge to stick her tongue out at him.

“Here, Brock,” Rollins nudged him, trying to hand him a plate. “This is real good, better dig in before Cap cleans it all up.”

Jemma let out a shocked gasp, making several of the men turn to look at her. Skye shook her head violently, but Jemma was already speaking.

“Brock; but that’s the name on your soulmark!”

Skye wished she could disappear as all eyes suddenly turned to her. It was way too much for her to take and she bolted out of the room. Jemma followed right behind her. “Skye, wait! Oh, damn. I’m sorry, Skye.”

Skye stopped as they arrived in the main lounge and leaned against the wall with a sigh. Jemma stopped right beside her and took the other woman’s hand gently. “I didn’t mean to. But maybe?”

More footsteps sounded in the hall and a moment later Rumlow entered the room, Captain Rogers right behind him. Rumlow’s dark eyes took in the scene and his expression softened just slightly. “Daisy?” he asked, his voice low but with a hint of something Skye couldn’t identify.

Skye shook her head, then shrugged helplessly. Her eyes met his, and for a moment she sincerely wished... “I’m an orphan; I don’t know what name I was given at birth. That’s not a name I’ve ever heard before,” she said after a moment. She watched him frown, but he continued to approach. Behind him, Skye saw May emerge from the command center, clearly drawn by the commotion.

“Brock isn’t exactly a common name,” Rumlow said dryly, though his expression darkened with - could that possibly be _disappointment_? “May I see if it’s my writing?”

Skye froze, her eyes darting from him to the others in the room. She bit her lip, wide eyes showing her hesitation.

Rumlow whirled around and stared at May. “Is there somewhere we can talk alone?” When May just stared at him, he sighed. “Five minutes. Just five.”

May nodded. “Command center’s through there.” She nodded towards the door.

Ward was in there, but he came out, looking at May. “I’m Skye’s SO…”

“And I am your commanding officer. Five minutes, Agent Ward.”

Ward looked as though he was about to protest again, but then he caught the look Captain America was sending him, an incredulous expression that quite clearly said _You dare to argue with your commanding officer?_ He turned away and headed for the front of the plane instead, jaw tightly clenched.

Skye’s feet seemed to have frozen to the floor until a large warm hand closed over hers and Rumlow tugged gently. Reluctantly, she let him lead her to the command center, watched him slide the door shut behind them. And then he turned to look at her, and the look in his dark eyes had her backing up hastily, pressing her shoulders against the wall, not that there was any escape.

Indeed, all she’d managed to do was trap herself between the proverbial rock and the hard place, she thought a bit giddily, _damn, he does look very hard indeed_ … her eyes raked over his broad shoulders as he came to stand directly in front of her. And then he was unfastening the weapons harness that crossed over his chest, stripping off his tight black T-shirt, and Skye could only stare as a massively muscular chest was revealed.

Her eyes drifted helplessly downwards, following the fine trail of dark hair down his stomach towards his groin, and stalled at the word _Daisy_ written in suspiciously familiar loopy script across - was that an _eight_ -pack?

“So if you don’t use the name Daisy,” he said in a low, husky voice that made goosebumps spring up all over her body, “what should I call you?”

Her mouth opened but for a moment she couldn’t make a sound. She finally managed to tear her eyes away from his muscles - _I’m as bad as Jemma,_ she thought - and returned them to his face. She blushed at the hint of amusement she caught in his expression. “Skye. The name I gave myself is Skye,” she whispered finally, her dark eyes wide. Conflicting emotions wracked her; intense desire and attraction warred with confusion and a little fear. This man could break her in half without even breathing hard, and STRIKE teams had a reputation for ruthlessness; she’d learned that in her investigations of SHIELD. They did whatever it took to get the job done.

“Alright, _Skye_ ,” he said, his voice still low and provoking shivers in her. “Will you show me your mark, or do I have to guess?” She shook her head, biting her lip. The wall seemed nice and safe, right at that moment. A low rumble of displeasure at her refusal was all she heard before he pulled her abruptly away from the wall.

Stunned by the speed of his movement, Skye could barely struggle before he moved behind her and bent her over the table. One large hand held her arms behind her back as his other hand moved to pull her shirt up; he fumbled with the material tucked into her low-riding jeans for a moment before her lower back was bared.

Skye froze as awareness of her position sent tingles through her body; she was completely at his mercy, pinned effortlessly to the table. His thighs were warm against hers; the thought of where their marks were and how he would have to lean over her in a position very similar to this for their marks to touch sent absolutely _filthy_ thoughts skittering through her mind and heat straight to her core.

She couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped her when she felt his fingers brush ever-so-lightly over the mark just above her tailbone. Then he abruptly released her, stepping back. Trembling, more from desire than fear - though the fear was still there - Skye immediately rolled off the table and moved to put it between them. That lasted for about two beats of her rapidly thudding heart before he _vaulted over the table_ and, _Oh my God, should anyone be able to move like that?_

A moment later she was pinned against the wall again. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even _breathe_ as she stared up at him. Her eyes began to drift closed as she took in the feeling of his body against hers, the scent of warm musky male heavy around them, and it felt _so good._

“That is my writing as well as my name, sweetheart,” he told her softly. He bent his head, about to capture her lips when the door banged open behind them.

“When I gave you five minutes I didn’t expect you to use them to assault one of my people, Rumlow!” May snapped out, and an instant later two powerful hands closed on Rumlow’s shoulders and yanked him away from Skye as Captain Rogers strode up.

Skye had the feeling he’d allowed that to happen. Though how anyone could _allow_ the Captain to do anything was beyond her.

“It’s all right, Agent May,” she said a little weakly, her eyes still locked with Rumlow’s. “It wasn’t… I was just… we…”

“I take full responsibility,” Rumlow said quietly, “and I apologise, Skye. I got a little carried away when I saw my name on you.”

She blinked with surprise. But apparently it had been the right thing to say, because Cap let go with a pat to Rumlow’s shoulder, shaking his head and grinning.

“Congratulations, Rumlow.”

“You _are_ soulmates, then?” May glanced between the two of them.

“Yes,” Rumlow said, at the exact same moment that Skye said;

“I’m not sure.”

They stared at each other again, Rumlow’s brow furrowed with displeasure. He didn’t break eye contact until Steve picked up the shirt he’d dumped on the table and handed it to him. Shrugging back into it, fastening the weapons harness, he sighed at last and looked at May.

“I suppose we can’t truly be certain unless and until Skye confirms that her first name really is Daisy.”

“I’m still investigating my past, with SHIELD resources,” Skye said pleadingly, and May’s lips tightened.

“We’ll discuss that later, Skye. Right now, please go to your bunk.”

She didn’t want to, it was clear in her expression, and she was surprised when the Captain spoke up.

“Perhaps they could just talk for a little while, Agent May, if I stayed here to chaperone them?”

May’s expression tightened minutely and for a moment Skye was afraid she would stand firm; then May nodded slowly. “Fine. But there will be no further physical intimidation.” She glared at Rumlow until he nodded acceptance of her terms. “Fine, then; as long as they’re in your company, Captain.” She looked hard at Skye until the young woman nodded as well; Skye knew she was agreeing to stick to the rules and either make sure they had company or absent herself.

“Thank you, Agent May,” the Captain said politely. She nodded abruptly at him and turned to leave the room. “Five hours to drop-off, give or take,” she informed them as she left.

Skye quickly crossed the room and dropped into a chair. She rested her head in her hands for a moment, until she felt someone else sit beside her. The third presence moved to sit as well, but a little further away. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I just, I can’t be sure. I’ve looked for clues about myself, my parents, for most of my life. But there’s nothing.”

“Hey,” Rumlow reached out, then hesitated a moment before very gently taking her hand. “I understand. You don’t know me, and you don’t want to take a risk because you have no way to confirm it. Soulmarks are supposed to be easy; it’s gotta be pretty damn rare for someone to not know what name they were born with.”

“Probably,” Skye looked up and gave him a small smile. “But I’ve never known. The nuns gave me some bullshit name, just so they’d have something to call me. But even they don’t know where I came from.”

“That sounds difficult,” Captain Rogers said when neither of them spoke for a few minutes. “For whatever it’s worth, you have my sympathies. The world I knew may be gone, but at least I knew who I was when I lost it. I can’t imagine going through life without that background.”

Skye shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It happens. Life in the system is rough on everyone. I can’t imagine waking up and finding out that everyone I knew was dead, so I’m not sure which of us has it worse.”

Rumlow’s warm fingers squeezed gently on hers, and she looked back at his face to see that he was looking at the captain with an expression of… jealousy? _Oh shit, I’m supposed to be talking to my maybe-soulmate and he thinks I’m chatting up Captain America_ …

“Tell me about you?” she asked quietly.

A wry smile twisted his mouth, and she couldn’t help but think how very attractive he was. He was older than her - quite a lot older, unless she missed her guess. Wait. Did he maybe know her real birthday? That could only help, when trying to find records of her birth. She’d have to ask.

“Rumlow, Brock no-middle-name, SHIELD Level 8, Commander of STRIKE team Alpha,” he said, a little tonelessly. “Age forty-three.”

“Oh,” Skye blinked. “You don’t look that old.”

“Thanks.” It was very dry. “You look about nineteen, but - if you’re my Daisy, you’re twenty-five.”

“I’m about twenty-five, yes. Do you know when my birthday is? _If_ I’m Daisy…”

He jolted slightly, his expression softening. “April the ninth.”

“Okay,” she smiled a little bit. “Well - if you don’t mind, I might adopt that as my birthday.”

“I’ll try to get leave, to come and spend the day with you. Bring you something.”

“Oh, you don’t need to…”

His eyes were dark and soft as he looked at her, and then to Skye’s wonder he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against her knuckles. “I promised myself that when I found my soulmate, I’d court her properly. Not rush her into things. A birthday present is the least of what I want to do for you.”

For the first time, Skye found herself genuinely hoping that he really was her soulmate. She’d never known anyone who would do nice things for her, just because. And while she knew he wasn’t either - he clearly believed she was his soulmate, and he wanted her cooperation, her affection... perhaps even her love - his reasons were considerably more selfless than she’d expected.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hope. Just a little.

“If… if you’re sure,” she agreed quietly. “I’d like to spend time with you, get to know you... even if there’s still a chance that you’re meant for someone else.”

“I’m not,” he insisted gently, though her eyes still expressed her doubt as much as her growing hope. “I won’t pressure you, Skye. I won’t try to make you believe it. But I’ll be here, waiting patiently, when you do.” He smiled a little, his expression gentler than she would have thought a high-level agent capable of.

“I suppose you agents get a lot of practice at that patience thing, huh?” she asked, trying to lighten things up a bit. “Seems to me like it takes forever to learn things, at least the important ones.”

Rumlow chuckled and nodded. “Sometimes it does. You’ll see, if you stick around.”

“I’ll be here for a while,” she assured him. “I’m only a consultant, though, so they may never get around to telling me the big stuff.”

“With this team?” he said, arching a brow, though carefully not saying anything he shouldn’t. “You might be surprised.”

“I might,” she agreed. Coulson did seem more flexible about such things, but only to a point.

They talked a little longer, about things that might seem inconsequential to others but were important to them. Rumlow told her that he’d been a Navy SEAL, had come to SHIELD’s attention after the second Iraq war and been recruited for STRIKE; he’d been commanding Alpha Team for five years. She asked once, tentatively, about his family, and he only shook his head. So that was something else they had in common, then.

He looked angry when she told him that she’d been living in her van. Skye didn’t mention the Rising Tide, but she had no doubt he was reading between the lines and would make it his business to investigate her thoroughly once he had the opportunity. Once she almost let Coulson’s name slip, and only the suddenly tightening pressure of his fingers on hers made her remember that they weren’t alone and she mustn’t mention Phil. She stuttered a bit and said May’s name instead.

All too soon, May popped her head around the door and told them to buckle up for landing. Skye found herself holding a little tighter to Rumlow’s hand. She didn’t want him to go, she realised. Who knew when, or even if, she’d ever see him again? She’d come very close to death herself more than once in the last few days, and he had an even more dangerous job than she did. He seemed to understand how she felt, though, because he lifted her hand to his lips again, kissed her fingertips.

“I’ll come to you when I can,” he said quietly. “I’ll leave you a number where you can contact me. If I don’t answer, leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Stay safe, Skye.”

“Nice to meet you, miss,” was Captain Rogers’ awkward farewell as he left, giving them one precious minute alone.

“And you, Captain,” Skye gave him a wave and a small smile. “And thank you for helping with... this.”

“My pleasure, miss,” he answered as he shut the door behind himself.

Turning her attention back to Rumlow, she gave him a bigger smile than the one she’d bestowed on Steve. “If you want, I’ll text you from my phone so you can call or message me when you’re around,” she offered, a little shyly. “You stay safe, too. I’d imagine your job is a lot more dangerous than mine.” She smiled again, this time to cover her concern. She really didn’t want him to go, she wanted all this soulmate stuff to be true. If only so that she had one person (other than Coulson) who actually cared about her happiness.

“Sweetheart, there’s not a thing in this world that will keep me from coming back to you,” he assured her with a wink and a cocky smirk.

Giving in to impulse, Skye flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Before she could regret her action and back off, his arms came up and he cradled her gently in his arms. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said softly, her voice muffled against his chest.

“I hope you do,” he replied. As he pulled away, Skye swore for a moment that he was going to kiss her. But he didn’t; he simply lifted her hands to his lips and kissed both sets of knuckles before letting her go and leaving the room.

Skye sat down heavily in her chair, not entirely sure what to make of the events of the past several hours. After a moment, she smiled softly to herself. _Maybe things are getting better after all._ She pushed herself to her feet and finally left the command center, the better to go reassure her team that she was just fine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Just a quick note to say that yes, in this AU soulmates only get the first name of their other half on their bodies. Marks are quite rare, only maybe 1% or so of the population have them, and many people never find their soulmate. And as per some of my other soulmate AU’s, having the marks meet while engaging in sexual activity can cause a soulbond to forge which creates a tangible link between the soulmates.**
> 
>  
> 
> **(And yes, we changed Skye’s birthday from the recently identified date in AoS canon. For REASONS).**


	3. Not Together Yet. Are We?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Rumlow exchange messages and manage to find a stolen moment between missions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter span from before the beginning of Season 1 episode 3, to the middle of season 1 episode 7._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/shopping%20mall_zpsunouh5pk.jpg.html)

“You lucky bastard, Brock,” Rollins fell into step beside his commanding officer as they walked away from the big plane. His tone was decidedly envious. “Finding your soulmate, and she’s damn gorgeous too.”

Rumlow said nothing, but his mouth curved in a small, private smile. Rollins never knew when to leave a subject the hell alone, so he pressed on.

“I’ve always envied those of you with soulmarks. The rest of us poor suckers have to work for it, and then you get a girl like _that_ just dropped in your lap…”

Rumlow gave him a disgusted look. “Don’t have to work for it? What, you think I’m that fucking lazy? She deserves a lot better than some Neanderthal asshole just telling her that the fates have decreed that she’s mine, end of story. Maybe there’s a reason you don’t have a soulmark, Jack.”

“Not all of us are worthy of having soulmarks, Rollins,” to Rumlow’s surprise, Cap spoke up from his other side. He turned his head, saw Rogers’ grin. “Jack is right though. You’re lucky. She’s beautiful.”

Rumlow couldn’t keep the foolishly pleased smile off his face as he walked onwards, between the sulking Rollins and a grinning Cap.

“I’ll treat her right, Cap,” Rumlow answered, still smiling. “Show her that you don’t need a guy from the 40s to have a good man.” Rollins snickered and slapped Rumlow on the shoulder.

Rogers just laughed and nodded, his eyes bright. “You do that. I’m sure she’s worth it; they generally are.”

Rumlow regarded Cap, taking in the genuine respect in the man’s expression - not just for him, but for his soulmate too. And for the first time in a long time, he wondered if he’d taken the right path through life. The road had still brought him to his soulmate, sure, but Rumlow suddenly wasn’t sure if when push came to shove she’d choose his side.

Which might mean that he shouldn’t ask her to make that choice. Or he might have to be prepared to lose her; but no, that was unthinkable. Now that he’d found her, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. He might have to think seriously about his priorities, after all.

Rumlow shook himself, banishing ‘what if’ questions to the back of his mind. No point in dwelling on a situation that might never come up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One day, a week or so after meeting Skye, Rumlow’s phone beeped his text alert. Glancing at it, he saw that the message was from Skye. _Any suggestions for a hacker about to crash a party so the team can bust in afterwards?_ it read.

He found himself grinning foolishly again - why did he turn into a dumb teenager every time he even thought of her? His thumbs danced quickly as he sent a message back.

_No, but a girl as beautiful as you can buy a lot of time if you flirt your way up to the big boss. What are you going to wear?_

His phone beeped again a moment later and he almost choked.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/skye%20pink%20dress_zps1wblsuva.jpg.html)

_May picked it out for me. What do you think?_

_I’m thinking that you won’t have any trouble being a distraction. You sure as hell just distracted me_.

The next message that came through was a grinning emoji. Followed immediately by, _Sorry, wasn’t intending to be a distraction. I figured if you were busy, you wouldn’t answer._

_Nah, no worries. Nothing critical happening today. You on an op?_

_Yeah. The team was trying to find a way into a closed, private event. So I got myself an invite. E-vite. Whatever._

Rumlow whistled under his breath, impressed despite himself. _Nice work. Be careful though, yeah?_

It was several hours later, and he was contemplating getting in touch with Coulson, when his phone beeped again.

_Whew. Big day. SHIELD gets crazier by the minute._

He couldn’t help but laugh. _Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a few weeks later when he got a text that first alerted him that Coulson’s team were fishing in dangerous waters. Quinn was one thing, but this…

_Do you know anything about people being fitted with cyborg eyes?_

He sat staring at his phone for a long, long time in silence.

 _What makes you ask?_ he typed finally, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

 _Hacked a signal from a camera while on a mission. Turned out to be coming from a person and not a surveillance camera like I thought._ Was her eventual answer.

Rumlow considered his response long and hard before beginning to type. _I’ve never met anyone with a functional cybernetic eye._ Which was true; he’d never come into contact with anyone from that particular operation. Their only contact with anyone was through their handlers sending to the implant.

_Okay. Thanks anyway. We’ll have to see what else we can find._

He chewed on his lip for a moment before sending _Be careful, Skye. This sounds dangerous_.

He should report this. He knew it. But with a quick swipe of his thumb, he deleted the conversation. If he reported it, Whitehall would order all of Coulson’s team eliminated immediately. Rumlow might even be ordered to do it. His fingers clenched convulsively around the phone.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Skye,” he whispered quietly to the empty room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next series of messages from Skye were cheerful, chatty, everyday. And then she dropped off the radar for a solid week. He’d done exactly the same when on a mission, but it was different when Skye went AWOL on him. Rumlow found himself damn near climbing the walls, on the verge of calling Coulson half a dozen times. He even went and used his security clearance to try and pull details on what the team were up to, but there was nothing there that explained why Skye wasn’t responding to his messages.

Until he received a very primly worded text from an unfamiliar number.

_This is Jemma Simmons. We met on the Bus. Skye asked me to let you know that she’s in trouble and banned from electronics for a while._

He stared at the screen in disbelief before throwing his head back and letting out a roar of laughter. _Tell her I’ll put her over my knee for it next time I see her_.

There was no response, and he realised he’d probably shocked the prim scientist silly.

When a message did come through, the wording was different and he wondered if someone else had taken the phone from Simmons. _Not gonna think about that one. Skye promises to be in touch as soon as she’s allowed and reminds you of your promise to stay safe._

Rumlow snorted and typed back a quick reply. _Remind her she promised to do the same. I’ll be in touch._

There was no answer to his last message, and he figured her friends had done all they intended to do for one day.

Unfortunately, knowing that she couldn’t be contacted didn’t keep him from missing her over the next several days. More than once he started to send her a message, only to realize that she wouldn’t get it. He considered sending them anyway, but he didn’t want to seem clingy or - _God forbid_ \- make her think he had some sort of obsession or control-freak need to keep tabs on her.

Finally, he decided to call Coulson. It wasn’t the easiest process - he had to go through Victoria Hand to get permission, the stroppy bitch - but in the end he was permitted to put through a call from one of the secure communications rooms at the Triskelion.

“Wondered how long it would be before you cracked,” Coulson’s grin was darkly amused when he appeared on the screen.

Rumlow blinked. And then realised he’d done exactly that. “It’s a particularly cruel punishment for Skye,” he said after a moment, keeping it vague, “but it punishes me as well.”

“In that case, I have some good news for you. We’re inbound to the Hub right now. Not sure how long we’ll be there, but if you can get permission…” Coulson shrugged. “You could spend some time with Skye.”

Rumlow grinned. “Fancy that. I have a meeting there tomorrow. Perhaps I’ll hop an earlier transport; the brass can hardly call me to task for arriving early.”

Coulson chuckled. “One would think. Well, Skye won’t be allowed anywhere restricted, so I can’t imagine she’ll be too hard to find. Even without her phone.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Rumlow answered dryly. He nodded his thanks to Coulson and ended the call. Better to keep it short, in case he needed to try something like this again.

Getting transport from the Triskelion to the Hub wasn’t terribly difficult. He had his meeting to cite as reason enough to be there, and the kid organizing transport that day had enough brains to not ask stupid questions about why Rumlow was going early. When he checked, he learned that the Bus had indeed arrived before him. So all he needed to do was find his girl.

That wasn’t terribly difficult, either. She was sitting on a bench, people-watching, when he dropped into a seat beside her.

“Brock!” Her eyes lit up excitedly as she recognized him.

“Hey, beautiful. You look like you could use some company?” He grinned, happy to see her and pleased that she was so excited to see him. She looked beautiful, her dark hair flowing around her shoulders - and he thought she looked a little thinner, as well. Maybe more toned? He didn’t comment - he'd lived long enough to know that remarking on a woman’s weight was generally a suicidal move - except to say;

“I’d forgotten how stunning you are.”

”Oh!” it was a shy blush that appeared on her cheeks, but she didn’t resist when he reached to take her hand.

“Want to come get a coffee with me?”

“I would love to,” she said enthusiastically, and then looked uncertain, as though thinking perhaps she’d sounded too eager. It reminded him, once again, of how very young she was.

“Come on, then.”

“I’m not supposed to go anywhere unescorted by a senior agent…”

“Level 8, remember? Doesn’t get all that much more senior.” He tugged on her hand gently and she stood to follow him, a happy smile on her face. “So,” he said as they walked along, “you going to tell me what got you into trouble?”

He knew, of course. He’d looked it up and read the mission reports as soon as Coulson uploaded them. Knew about Miles Lydon. He’d had to restrain himself from going straight out and killing the bastard for daring to lay a hand on _his_ soulmate.

Skye sighed. “We were chasing down an old friend-slash-ex-boyfriend-ish of mine. I was worried, not sure what was going on, and I sent him a warning to knock it off. Met up with him, read him the riot act... and wound up in one of our old patterns, we yell and then we fuck.” She couldn’t look at him, as if afraid of what she’d might see in his eyes. “I was still there when May showed up. Turns out my ex was selling information hacked from SHIELD to Centipede. Long story short, we were able to get the information from him that we needed... but I lost the trust of my team. So I get to wear this,” she held up her braceleted wrist, “until C... the boss says otherwise.”

They were in a deserted corridor, so he stopped walking, turned her to face him. Put his finger under her chin and made her meet his eyes. “Thank you,” he said quietly, “for being honest with me about it.”

Tears welled and she blinked them away fiercely. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, and he couldn’t help but put his arms around her, give her the hug he suspected she needed very badly right then. She clung tightly, pressing her face against his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” Rumlow told her. “It’s all right, Skye, I’m not gonna be mad with you. Shit happens, life in SHIELD can be pretty emotionally intense. Sometimes we take comfort wherever we can find it.”

“It still felt like I cheated on you,” she mumbled into his chest.

“We ain’t actually together, are we? I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

She went very still in his arms, and he glanced both ways along the corridor. Still deserted.

“We could fix that now, though. If you wanted.”

Tipping her head back to look up at him, she gave him a watery smile. “I... think I’d like that,” she murmured. She opened her mouth to say something else, but he didn’t let her speak. He covered her lips with his, taking it slowly. He pulled back for a moment, then kissed her again; this time he waited until she relaxed in his arms and then deepened it. Felt her respond to him and couldn’t stop himself from holding her just a little tighter for a moment. He hoped it was the kind of first kiss she wanted. It was hard to resist pressing her up against a wall, the way he almost kissed her the first time. But he restrained himself.

“Wow,” she whispered when he finally allowed her to speak again. He grinned in reply and allowed her to pull out of his arms. Instead he took her hand and urged her down the hallway again.

“Come on. Coffee awaits.”

She followed along easily enough, and they walked quietly for a few minutes. “If it helps any, it never even occurred to me to try to lie to you,” she said quietly. “Aside from the fact that I’m pretty sure you could tell if I tried, I just... I figured you’d be less angry with me if I just told you I fucked up. Lies and secrets just screw things up worse.”

“That they do,” his smile was tight, twisted. “That they certainly fucking well do.”

They had a coffee and he walked her back, found Coulson with his knickers in a twist about something. He almost looked on the verge of asking Rumlow for help - and wouldn’t _that_ have created a sticky problem - but eventually seemed to dismiss the idea.

“I have to go,” Rumlow checked his watch, saw that he only had a few more minutes to get to his meeting. “See you soon, I hope?”

“I hope so too,” Skye smiled at him shyly, stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Absurdly pleased that she’d chosen to make the gesture in front of Coulson, he smiled all the way to his meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note: It’s part of our headcanon for this story that Rumlow is not working directly for Alexander Pierce. He doesn’t even know Pierce is HYDRA at this point. He gets his orders directly from Whitehall, who’s head of HYDRA’s North American operations, and Bakshi is Whitehall’s second in command.**


	4. Not Such A Crappy Christmas After All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye gets to spend Christmas with her maybe-soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during the events of S1 ep 8 and during the Season 1 mid-season break, between episodes 9 and 10._

 

Rumlow next saw Skye in London, in the aftermath of the mess Thor and the Dark Elves had made of Greenwich. He was called in to deal with some sort of weird alien beastie that had been left behind. A rocket-launcher took care of the monster, and he was heading back to his quinjet shaking his head in disgust at wasting his time on such a minor problem, when he spied a familiar figure studying something on the ground.

“Skye!” he hurried up beside her, and her smile when she looked up to see him was like the sun coming up.

“Brock!” she flung herself into his arms, mashing her lips to his; he chuckled delightedly and kissed her back, aware of Agent Ward standing a few feet away staring but not giving a shit. “What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly when they parted.

“Seems there were a few alien critters left behind. It’s handled,” he said offhandedly. “What about you? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“We’re making sure there are no alien bits left where curious people can get at them,” she answered in a bored tone. “Fitz and Simmons are doing their thing with their techno-gadgets that I’m not allowed to touch.”

Rumlow chuckled and nodded. “Can you spare a few minutes before I have to go?”

Skye glanced at Ward, who frowned at her but shrugged. She was bored and not really able to help much. “I don’t see why not. All I’m doing is digging through rubble and calling someone if anything looks strange. Their scanners can probably find things without me anyway.”

“I’m sure they can,” Rumlow agreed. He offered her his hand and smiled when she took it. They didn’t go far, just to the steps a dozen or so yards away where they could be a little more private while still being in sight.

“So, how was your meeting?” she asked as they settled. He raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled wryly. “I’m not asking what it was about. Just, did it go well?”

“As well as any of them do, I guess. How about you? Were you at the Hub long?”

“Long enough to cause some trouble.” She looked a little sheepish. “Jemma helped me hack the database,” she told him quietly. “They sent Fitz and Ward on a dangerous mission that no one would tell us anything about. And when I got in, I saw that they didn’t have an extraction team set, even though they’d been told there was one. I told Coulson and he said to trust the system... but when May, Jemma and I decided to go rescue the guys, Coulson joined us. I think maybe he didn’t know either.”

“Goddamn bureaucrats,” Rumlow swore. “I know that sometimes teams get sent in without extraction teams; usually there’s an exit strategy in the plan. But sending in a team, _telling them_ there’s an extraction team waiting when there isn’t... _damn them._ ”

Skye grinned, glad she wasn’t the only one pissed about it. “Yeah, I know.” Then she sighed. “I wish I’d had just a couple more minutes in the database.”

“Why?”

She looked at him for a moment, then took a deep breath. “The reason I hacked into SHIELD to begin with is because I wanted to find out what they know about me. When I started this thing, I had only ever been able to find one file with any information about how I got to the orphanage. Redacted, by SHIELD.” She paused, but when he didn’t react negatively, she went on, “When I told Coulson, he said he’d do his best to help. He told me later that I was dropped off at the orphanage by an Agent, but we still don’t know if she was my mother or if she just found me somewhere.”

Skye sighed, and Rumlow put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. “You just want answers. I understand,” he said quietly. He placed a soft kiss on her hair and just held her. “Coulson is probably right, though; be patient, let him see what he can uncover. You don’t want to go digging too deep into SHIELD on your own, Skye. Sometimes secrets are kept for a reason; the more people who knew about some of my missions, for example, the more danger my team and I would have been in.”

“I know, and I don’t want to put you - or any team - at risk. Trust me, I don’t make a habit of trying to get into mission data. Mostly I’ve been useful tracking down information from outside of SHIELD anyway.”

He smiled. “I’ve heard that.”

She cocked her head at him, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve been checking up on me,” she discovered.

“Of course I have,” he agreed equably, still smiling. “Especially in the last few weeks. I missed you, Skye, wanted to know what you were up to.” He glanced back at Ward, who was still watching them. And after a moment, Rumlow came to a decision. “Look. I know Ward is your SO, but… he’s not a man I would want on my team.”

“Why?” Skye asked immediately, a little shocked. She’d seen very clear evidence of how capable Ward was over the last few weeks. “He’s so good at his job.”

“There’s being good at your job and then there’s being trustworthy. Ward’s got one hell of a background, he won’t talk about it to you but I know. He’s the kind of guy who will always look out for number one, Skye. If you’re going to trust somebody, trust Agent May.”

Skye’s eyes widened even further. She’d been convinced he was going to say Coulson. “Not Coulson?” she kept her voice low so there was no chance of anyone overhearing them.

“Coulson is, or was, a good man. But he’s different to how he used to be. I’m not sure I know this Coulson. I do, however, know Melinda May. I’d trust her with _your_ life, which believe me is saying something.” He hesitated, lifted one hand to tuck her hair behind her ear as she stared trustingly up at him. “Just be careful, Skye. I don’t think I could bear it if anything happened to you.”

"Coulson is still a good man. But I will try to stick close to May if something happens," she said reassuringly. “You be careful too, please,” she went on. “You’re far more likely than I am to be in the middle of any major conflicts. I... I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” Her voice got very quiet. “I mean, life has kind of taught me that nothing good sticks around for long. It’s all temporary. And even though there’s a part of me that still isn’t sure about this whole fate thing... you’ve gotten to be important to me. Being able to keep in touch made me happy, and I’ve missed you since I lost that ability.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t need to know every detail of what’s going on in your life, but I do worry when I don’t hear from you. I’d like to be the person that changes your opinion of good things in life. I don’t know if I can, but I’d like to.”

She smiled. “I know. I believe you.” She squeezed his hand gently. “Ward _is_ my SO, and I don’t think I can change that. But I might be able to ask May for some extra help, if that would make you feel better. She’s built more like me; maybe she has a few moves someone like Ward wouldn’t think to teach me?”

Rumlow chuckled. “You can bet on it. She might even be willing to teach them to you; it doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Then I will,” she said with a nod. “Though I bet she’s an even tougher teacher than Mr. Robot over there.”

“Probably, but it’s worth your time and effort, Skye. Anything that keeps you safer sounds like a good idea to me.”

“You keep saying that. Should I be worried?” she teased lightly. Rumlow froze for a heartbeat, wondering why she would ask, then shook his head with a smile as he realized she was being flippant.

“Sweetheart, I’m always worried. It’s what keeps my team alive.”

She looked at him sideways for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll remember that. Try not to worry about me too much, though. Generally I’m in a pretty safe position with my team.”

He surprised her with a sudden, tight hug and a fiercely passionate kiss. “I’m gonna try and make more time for _us_ , sweetheart. Word is that unless something comes up, Coulson’s heading back to the Hub for December - your Brit team-mates are scheduled to head back across the pond to spend time with family, and you’ll all get some leave.”

Skye shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere to go, anyone to spend leave with… oh,” as she met his amused grin. “You meant - you?”

“I was kinda hoping you’d want to, yeah. STRIKE is always on call, and I definitely won’t have leave but,” he shrugged, “there’s no particular reason my team can’t be based out of the Hub for a few weeks instead of the Triskelion. Change of scenery will do them good.”

Skye found herself grinning foolishly. And then the phone in his pocket chirped, and he sighed. “Damn.”

She moved a few steps away while he took the call, his expression growing grim as he listened to whoever was on the other end. Finally he cut off with a curt acknowledgement, turning back to her. “I have to go, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she shrugged, trying not to show how disappointed she felt. “Seeing you here at all was a bonus.”

He smiled, framing her face gently in his big hands and leaning in for a tender kiss. “I’ll see you soon. Take care, sweetheart.”

“You too,” she called after him as he loped swiftly away across the torn, ruined lawn.

“I thought he wasn’t your soulmate?” Ward said, arriving behind her silently, making Skye jump.

“I’m not sure we’ll ever know whether he is or not,” Skye said, her eyes on the rapidly receding figure, “since there seems to be some big secret about my birth even SHIELD doesn’t know about. That said - I think I could fall in love with him anyway.”

“That might not be wise.”

Skye turned to look at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“STRIKE teams are dangerous people, Rookie,” he told her, a hint of condescension in his tone. “They’re ruthless; get in, do the job, get out again.” He glanced at her and paused, seeing her impatient look. “I just wouldn’t want to see you get in over your head.”

With a sigh, she nodded slowly. “I appreciate your concern,” she said after a moment. She paused, remembering what Brock had just told her. “I don’t think I’m in any danger of that, though. Every time I hear from him, he’s worried about my safety.”

“All high level agents are trained manipulators, though,” Ward explained patiently. Or what Skye thought was his attempt to seem patient, anyway.

Skye glanced sideways at him. “You mean, like Specialists are?” She waited a moment, letting her comment sink in. “Like I said, I appreciate the concern. I’ll be as careful as I can be. In the meantime, I’m going to go see if FitzSimmons needs my help yet.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, this promises to be one of my crappier Christmases,”  Skye sighed, sitting on the bed in her room. SHIELD did have quarters for ‘consultants’ in the Hub, but they were barely bigger than her cubicle on the Bus. And the bed was, if anything, even less comfortable. Without access to electronics, and with Fitz and Jemma gone back to the UK to see their families, she was beyond bored. She hadn’t heard from Rumlow in a fortnight, either. He’d sent her occasional messages via Jemma’s phone before that, but with Jemma on a different continent…

Skye sighed again dismally, her eyes drifting over the single strand of tinsel draped over the generic abstract picture on the wall. “I’m definitely complaining to the higher-ups about their choice of decor,”  she said aloud.

A knock on the door made her sit up. Any company was better than none - maybe that was Coulson? Even May had turned out to have family and headed off to visit with her mother. Skye had totally failed to imagine what the woman who had given birth to Melinda May could be like. Sigourney Weaver’s character in _Alien_ , possibly? Except Asian, obviously. She laughed at the thought and answered the door.

“Hey, Rookie,” Ward nodded down at her.

“Ward.” Funnily enough, the idea of company was no longer quite so appealing. Skye really wasn’t sure what it was about Ward that had her so on edge these days. Every time she looked at him, though, Rumlow’s words echoed in her head. _He’s the kind of guy who will always look out for number one. I wouldn’t want him on my team_.

“Was wondering if you wanted to come down to the bar and get a drink?”

“There’s a bar here?” Skye blinked.

“Level Six and above. And guests.” He smiled. “Nobody should be sitting alone in their room on Christmas Eve.”

He was most certainly not wrong about that. Skye nodded. “OK. Give me five to put on something nicer?”

He shrugged, looked almost like he wanted to wait in her room, but she shut the door firmly in his face. She wasn’t dressing up for _him_. She just didn’t think it would be a good look to walk into a bar full of senior agents in sweatpants and an old Guns ‘n’ Roses T-shirt.

Skye opened the door five minutes later, dressed in a denim skirt and a spotted blouse she knew Ward had seen at least a dozen times before. She wasn’t wearing makeup either, beyond a quick slick of lip gloss and a dusting of powder to take the shine off her nose. Ward’s self-satisfied smile when she opened the door, though, made her wish she hadn’t bothered to make any effort at all.

They were walking towards the elevator at the end of the corridor when the doors pinged open, and a very tired, very dirty man with blood smeared down his left arm and weapons still hung all over him stepped out.

"Oh, my God!" Skye exclaimed as she paused, staring. "Do you need help?"

Rumlow looked up at the sound of her voice. "Skye?" He looked surprised and pleased to see her.

"Oh, shit! Brock? What happened to you?" She dashed over and immediately tucked herself against his right side, helping to support him.

"Careful, sweetheart," he cautioned, despite being grateful for her help. "I'm a bloody mess."

"Can I help you get somewhere?" The concern in her voice was obvious. Rumlow saw Ward scowl, though Skye missed it as she focused on him.

"I'll be alright," he assured her. "My room's down the hall. Were you off somewhere? You look great."

"We were headed down to the bar," she answered readily. "The rooms here for consultants suck."

Rumlow chuckled. "So I've heard. Why don't you go on down and I'll meet you there after I've cleaned up a bit."

"Alright," she agreed, a little hesitant but not willing to argue.

"Go on. I'll see you in a bit."

“But…”  she eyed the blood on his arm.

“It’s not mine,” he reassured quietly. “Go on.”

She hesitated. But then Ward’s hand closed lightly on her shoulder. “Come on, Skye. Let the man get cleaned up. I’m sure you need to debrief, too, Agent Rumlow.”

“Did that,” Rumlow grimaced. “Just escaped Agent Hand. Hardass that she is.”

That made both Ward and Skye grin, and Skye stepped back. “Okay. I’ll see you in the bar soon?”

“Soon as I can, sweetheart.” He raised a hand as though to touch her cheek, looked at the dirt and blood smeared on it, and grimaced, dropping it again. “Soon.”

Skye was on tenterhooks in the bar, almost hopping from foot to foot. “What does he drink? I don’t know what he likes to drink. I want to get him a drink…”

“Calm the fuck down, you look desperate,” Ward grunted into his whisky. “I’m pretty sure Rumlow’s a sure thing for you, Skye.”

She blushed. Drained her vodka quickly to hide her annoyance.

“You’d be out of his league if he wasn’t possibly your soulmate. He’s too old for you.”

Skye’s lips tightened, and she gestured at the barman for another drink. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

He backtracked at the coolness in her tone. “Skye - I’m just worried about you. Rumlow’s a dangerous man. Even within SHIELD, he has a reputation for ruthlessness.”

Skye picked up her fresh drink, turned to look him straight in the eye. “So does May. Doesn’t seem to keep _you_ out of her bed.”

He froze. _How could she know? God damn it. She wasn’t supposed to know_ \- he’d underestimated her sneakiness yet again as he saw her smirk. She hadn’t been sure until that very moment.

“Skye,” a low voice said, and they both turned to see Rumlow, freshly showered and changed, his black hair still wet.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/santa%20hat_zps817g9at3.jpg.html)

_Merry Christmas To Skye..._

"Hey," she greeted Brock with a smile. "Glad to see you looking better." She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around him. She lifted her chin for a kiss and smiled when he obliged her.

The kiss was long and slow, and Skye was dimly aware of a few whistles echoing around the bar. "Mmm," she hummed. "That's a much better greeting, don't you think?"

"Oh, definitely," he agreed, his voice low and husky. "You need another drink, beautiful?"

"I will in a few," she answered cheekily as she retrieved her vodka.

Brock chuckled. "Fair enough." He signaled the bartender and ordered a beer for himself. "And another drink for the lady," he added, gesturing to Skye.

She smiled at him and tossed back the last of her drink. When the new one came, she decided she’d better slow down. She didn’t really want to end up drunk, crappy Christmas or not. Not that it was crappy now, though, not with Brock here beside her, his smile warm as he gazed at her. “Thanks,” she said. She slid back into her seat and gestured to the empty one beside her, away from Ward. “I’m glad you made it.”

Brock nodded and settled into the seat beside her. He nodded politely at Ward, who just glared at the two of them.

“Well, since you seem to no longer need my company, I guess I’ll leave you two alone,” Ward said, his tone surly. “Merry Christmas, Rookie.”

“Merry Christmas, Robot,” Skye replied, trying not to roll her eyes. She waited until he was out of earshot and then sighed. “I’m sorry. He’s been behaving strangely, of late. He doesn’t seem to like you, for whatever reason.”

“He doesn’t need to like me,” Rumlow said smoothly. “As long as you do, I’m content.”

Skye blushed but smiled. “You know I do.”

“I know. So, are you enjoying your downtime?”

Skye snorted inelegantly. “Well, let’s see. I’m staying in a room the size of a closet, I’m pretty sure the beds on the Bus are more comfortable, I can’t use my phone or my computer, and the part of my team that I might have enjoyed spending the holidays with are gone to see their families. So yeah, great holiday. Maybe not as bad as yours, though. At least I haven’t seen any bloodshed yet today.”

Brock shook his head and set his glass down on the bar top. “Well, maybe this will help a little?” He pulled a small box, brightly wrapped in red and green paper, out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Startled, Skye only blinked stupidly at it for a moment. “For me?”

“Didn’t bring it for your grumpy teammate.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and then found herself smiling again. He did seem to always have the ability to make her laugh. Tentatively at first, and then a little more eagerly, she pulled at the wrapping on the box. Blinking in surprise at the distinctive pale blue of the jewellery box inside. “Whoah. This must have set you back a pretty penny!”

He shrugged. “SHIELD pays well. And I get all sort of bonuses. Hazard pay, y’know.”

She winced at the reminder. And then opened the box carefully - it wasn’t ring-sized, so she didn’t freak - to find a lovely silver charm bracelet inside. There was a letter S engraved on the back of the locket clasp, and three charms dangling from the sturdy chain. Examining them, Skye grinned. A cellphone, a laptop and… what was the last one? She turned it over in her fingers, peering at it in the bar’s dim light.

“I had to have that one made,” Rumlow murmured. “It’s a shockstick. My favourite weapon. I thought - I could add to it for you. More charms. Things that mean things to us.”

“We need a little airplane, then. Since we first met on the Bus.”

“You’re right; I didn’t think of that.” Taking the bracelet from her, he unfastened the clasp and put it on her wrist, his fingers warm and gentle. “I’ll get one. Before your birthday.”

“April ninth.” She smiled up at him.

“Believe me, I’m never going to forget.” He kissed her fingers, looking up at her from his warm brown eyes, and Skye found her throat suddenly dry.

“Do you - want to get out of here?” she asked hesitantly.

“And go where?” one black eyebrow raised quizzically.

“Somewhere that I could say thank you properly without an audience?” she nodded around the bar.

Rumlow hesitated. “You don’t owe me anything, Skye, I don’t need a special thanks…”

“Brock, I’m propositioning you here. Yes or no?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _SMUTHANGER. Because ozhawk is pathologically incapable of writing a fic of any decent length without putting at least one smuthanger in it ;)_
> 
> _And now she’s got Winterlight doing it too._


	5. Are You Sure?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during the Season 1 mid-season break, between episodes 9 and 10._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're a day early. We didn't think you'd mind, though.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/white%20tee_zps7ftdl9uy.jpg.html)

Rumlow blinked in astonishment before a slow smile spread across his face. “Oh _hell_ yes.”

“I’m just hoping your room is nicer than mine. Or at least, has a bigger bed?”

"Oh yes."  He held a hand out to her, and smiled when she took it. He quickly finished his beer; she left half her vodka sitting on the bar, but really after two and a half of them she didn’t really think she needed more.

Together they walked to the elevator. Once the doors closed, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. Still gently, cautiously exploring and tasting her, noting the flavor of vodka  in her mouth. He didn’t want to push too hard; in spite of what she was offering, he still swore to himself that he wouldn’t ask for more than she wanted to give. But she kissed him back eagerly, exploring him as much as he was her.

When the elevator doors opened again, he tugged her down the hall with him. They paused so he could unlock the door to his assigned temporary quarters; as she’d hoped, they _were_ much nicer than hers. The space afforded to a high-level agent, leader of a STRIKE team, was more like a comfortable hotel room. A small work/sitting area, a private bathroom and a bedroom with a queen sized bed. She looked around with a small smirk and nodded. “Much better than my room,” she commented idly. “And even better, I’m with you.”

Brock pulled her close again, looking down into her dark eyes. He carefully pushed a strand of hair out of her face with a gentle hand. “Are you sure this is what you want, Skye?” he asked huskily. “I want you; never think that I don’t. But I don’t want this to happen now if you’re not absolutely sure.”

“I’m sure,” she promised him softly. “I want this, want you. You’re gorgeous, if you haven’t looked in the mirror lately,” she quipped, but then she sobered again. “Seriously, you mean so much to me. I think maybe I could be falling in love with you.” She bit her lip, looking up at him with serious eyes.

He looked startled by her confession for a moment before he crushed her body against his, his mouth capturing hers in a deeply passionate kiss. “I started falling in love with you the moment I saw my name on your skin,” he whispered.

“I’m glad. Remember when you said that you wanted to be the one to prove to me that good things can last?” she asked softly. When he nodded, she smiled. “I’d like it if you did, or at least if we tried.”

“You make me want to be a better man, Skye,” he said deeply, and her brow furrowed. But before she could ask what he meant, he was kissing her again, backing her towards the bed, his hands busy with the buttons of her blouse, and any coherent thought flew right out of Skye’s brain.

“Brock,” she gasped out his name as the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, at the same moment as he pushed her blouse off her shoulders. His expression was hungry, intently lustful, and Skye suddenly felt more beautiful, more desirable than she ever had before in her life as he whispered endearments. His big hands cupped her breasts lightly, thumbs teasing her nipples through the thin lace of her bra, and she let out a needy little whine.

“Please - I want to see you, too.”

He let go of her long enough to put one hand to the back of his neck and jerk the long-sleeved black T-shirt he was wearing off over his head. Skye’s eyes widened at the expanse of muscle revealed.

“Holy crap you are even more built than I remembered!” she traced her fingers lightly down his chest. “Wow, I am one lucky girl.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he said gruffly, and then his hands slid around her waist, guided her down to the bed.

Brock seemed content to just make out for a while, teasing her nipples gently through her bra. Not that Skye wasn’t thoroughly enjoying that, but with every passing second she grew hungrier for more. Finally she worked a hand down in between them and grabbed at his crotch.

“Skye,” he muffled a laugh in her neck. “I’m tryin’ to take this slow, here. We’ve got all night.”

“Yes we do. And slow will be lovely. The second time around. Right now I just _really_ want to feel you inside me.” She scrabbled at his belt buckle.

“Ah, sweetheart,” he groaned as she managed to get it unfastened, unzipped his pants and slid her hand inside with a triumphant grin. “You’ll be the death of me yet.”

Skye’s eyes widened as her fingers curled around the evidence of just how much he wanted her. Thick and rock-hard, his arousal strained against her hand. “You’re the one with the dangerous weapon, here,” she quipped, as usual resorting to humour when she felt nervous.

“Not more dangerous than these curves of yours,” he slid a hand around her back and deftly unsnapped her bra. Sliding down the bed, pulling his cock from her grasp, he began to press gentle kisses over her breasts. “Before we start, let’s have the responsible conversation, hmm?”

“Okay, but you need to stop doing that if you want me to have _any_ kind of conversation,” Skye gasped as he flicked his tongue over one pouting nipple.

Brock chuckled and stopped, lifting his head. “All right. I’ll go first, if you like. I got tested for everything right after we met the first time. And I haven’t been with anyone else since.”

“I - wish I could say the same,” Skye muttered, still ashamed over sleeping with Miles. Brock shook his head at her, though, and she sighed. “I’m clean. Simmons tested me just a couple of weeks ago. And I have an implant, so you’re not going to get me pregnant.”

“Would you like me to use a condom anyway?”

She melted, more in love with him than ever for being so considerate.

“I trust you, Brock. I know - _God_ , do I know by now - that you want me to be safe more than anything. I love that you asked, I really do. But I think we’re safe enough without it, unless you’d rather be extra careful.” She paused, then smirked. “Unless using one means you’d have to run out to get some, in which case - screw that.”

But he surprised her, reaching over the edge of the bed to his bag to pull an unopened box out. “I can’t say I was expecting this, though I hoped it would happen sometime,” he told her matter-of-factly. “But I believe in being prepared for whatever may come.”

She laughed softly at that, her expression amused. “I suppose I should’ve assumed as much. Most high level agents I know are serious contingency planners.” She shrugged lightly. “They make a bigger difference, sensation-wise, for you than for me. What do you prefer?”

He growled softly under his breath. “There’s a part of me that wants to do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Skye, wants to be extra careful with you,” he rumbled, voice husky. “But, _God,_ I’d be lying if I tried to deny that there’s a part of me that wants you to be _mine._ To _know_ that there will be something of me left behind when we’re done.”

Skye whimpered, those words in that tone of voice reigniting the slow burn of need within her. “Then make me yours,” she whispered, eyes bright with passion and lust.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he cursed, his hands moving to the button of her denim skirt even as hers returned to his pants, pushing them as far off his hips as she could reach. He pulled back to tug the skirt down her legs and took a moment while he was up to strip off his pants. Somehow it didn’t surprise her that he went commando.

Brock stared at her for a long moment, taking in the lacy panties that matched her discarded bra. “You are so fuckin’ gorgeous, sweetheart,” he murmured as he returned to the bed. Her hands reached for him, stroking his thick cock gently, and he groaned again. He slipped his hand inside her panties and his eyes went wide when he encountered her slick heat. “So wet.”

“ _Please_ , Brock, I need you. Fuck me, right now,” she said, moaning, trying to wrap her leg around his hip. “You can do slow after, I promise. Just get inside me!”

Giving in, he quickly stripped her of her panties. His fingers returned to her wet slit and circled around her clit until she arched off the bed. Then he gathered her into his arms and rolled onto his back, leaving her atop him. “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he invited her, his voice low and rough, reaching up to fondle her breasts.

“Oh, this works for me,” Skye murmured, staring down at him in awe. He was utterly gorgeous, all thick, surging muscle under olive skin, though she could see a few white scars she was definitely going to ask about later. Settling her knees on either side of his hips, she rubbed teasingly against him for a few moments.

Brock let out a growl. “Stop that or I’m gonna flip you over and fuck you through the mattress.”

Skye licked her lips at the thought, making him groan. “Next time,” she said with a smile, and then she reached down and took him in her hand, shifting to position herself, pressing his tip slowly into her soaked passage.

“Aaaah, fuuuuuck,” Brock gasped, his head tipping back, having to squeeze his eyes tightly shut. He’d spent too many nights fantasising about this very thing, about Skye seated astride him with her long dark hair flowing down around her. Actually _seeing_ it, feeling her hot, slick muscles slowly taking him in, was so much better in reality than in his imagination that he could hardly stand it.

Moaning at the sensation of his thick cock slowly filling her, Skye rocked gently, pressing a little further down each time. Her back arched as she finally sank fully down onto him, feeling deliciously full. Leaning down, she rested her hands on his chest as she slowly lifted her hips until he was just barely inside her and then let herself sink onto him again. Her hair fell around her shoulders, the ends brushing against his chest as she moved.

She settled into a steady rhythm, riding him a little faster as she adjusted to his size. His hands rested on her hips, helping to lift her as she moved. “ _Brock,_ ” she moaned his name, her voice low and sultry, laden with passion. “Feels _so good._ ” She watched him steadily, taking in his tense expression as he let her set the pace.

“You have _no_ idea,” he answered in a low, rough tone.

“Better than I ever imagined,” she told him, increasing her pace. “Look at me? Please?” Unable to resist her pleading tone, his eyes opened and he looked steadily up at her.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he groaned, watching her blissful expression as she rode him. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. Too good for a man like me.” Knowing that the sight of her, combined with her tight, slick channel, was likely to push him over the edge soon, he shifted one hand to reach between them. His thumb found her clit, stroking softly in time with her movement, and he grinned darkly as she cried out.

“I could’ve said the same,” she managed to say. “You’re too good for me, make me feel so much. So good...”

A low sound came from his lips then, incoherent and desperate, and suddenly he was bucking up hard against her, sitting up with his arm around her lower back, taking over and accelerating the rhythm.

"Please," was all Skye could manage to say, clinging to his shoulders as he thrust hard, slamming against her most sensitive spots, his mouth hot as he licked and sucked at her throat. His stubble was scratchy against her sensitive skin, his hands not quite rough as he used his strength against her, and Skye broke, sobbing his name as she convulsed around him.

"Fuuuck," Brock groaned his release against Skye's neck, tasting the saltiness of her sweat-damp skin. She was so small, tight and wet around him, sleek muscles contracting around his cock, sucking the hot jets of his seed deep into her body. He'd hoped to hold out, be able to bring her to a second climax before he took his own pleasure, but the instant she'd slid down on him he'd known that was a lost cause.

"Oh god," Skye went limp around him at last, and he lay back, pulling her with him to lie on his chest, stroking low circles on her back while he got his own breath back. "That was... that was..."

"I'm hoping you're going to say utterly fuckin' fantastic, because then we're thinkin' the same thing."

She laughed a little breathlessly.  "That's pretty much what I was thinking. Yes."

“Good.” He chuckled along with and otherwise just held her, still stroking lightly over her soft skin. “Not too rough for you?” he asked, not overly concerned because she’d certainly seemed to enjoy it, but still wanting to be sure.

“No, it was pretty damn near perfect,” she answered with a contented sigh. “I’m probably gonna be sore tomorrow, but the good kind of sore. Especially if you’re serious about having all night…”

“Oh, I’m serious, sweetheart,” he assured her, his voice low. “But we’ll take it a little easier on you. The last thing I want is you hurting.”

Skye propped her head up on her chin and looked steadily down at him. “I don’t know if you know this, but Jemma told me that soulmates are always sexually compatible. That means if there’s something you really like, chances are high that I will too. Sometimes I like it rough, knowing that I’ll be feeling it for days afterwards.”

He groaned and pulled her down for a heated kiss. “You really might be the death of me.”

“But oh, what a way to go,” she smirked and he laughed. She settled back against his chest, just relaxing in his arms. “You don’t mind if I just stay here tonight, do you?” she asked after a while, her voice soft and a little uncertain. “I mean, I know you want me here right now. But…”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m not about to kick you out of my bed, ever, even if all you want to do is sleep.” He stroked her hair gently. “I’m a pretty light sleeper, though, and I have some odd reflexes. If you get up during the night, do us both a favor and don’t try to move quietly. You’re more likely to wake me up if I feel like someone’s sneaking around than just the reminder that I have company.”

“I’ll remember,” she promised. “Though I appreciate the warning. Must be kind of like May; she wakes people up by banging on doors. Probably for similar reasons, someone coming into her room while she’s sleeping is a bad idea.”

“Sounds about right.”

It felt good, lying here snuggling with Brock. But he’d slipped out of her and Skye felt wet and sticky between her thighs, a little uncomfortable. She wiggled back slightly, glancing at the bathroom door, and he let her go without comment. A couple of minutes later she slid back into bed beside him and he immediately pulled her into his arms, kissing her long and slow.

Skye blinked as she felt his arousal nudge against her thigh again, pulled back from the kiss and looked down, surprised. “Brock?”

“What?” he grinned at the look on her face.

“I thought - well - oh God this is going to come out wrong.”

“You thought a guy in his forties would need more recovery time.” Skye blushed pink, and he chuckled darkly. “Maybe some would, sweetheart. But not me, not with you. You promised me I could take it slow, second time round. Take my time with you. And then _fuck you through the mattress_.” He moved so fast her head just about spun, and then she was underneath him, one thickly muscled thigh pushed up against her crotch, both of her hands held above her head in an iron grip, his heated mouth sucking a bruise into her neck.

Skye could only moan desperately as his thigh ground against her, his crisp chest hair chafing her nipples to aching hardness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **(And no. Sorry. That isn’t a second smuthanger. We’re back to Plot next chapter).**


	6. Motherfuckers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock has to make a crucial decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur in between Season 1 episodes 9 and 10._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/preparing_zps2e3d48e2.jpg.html)

It was possibly the best Christmas Skye had ever had. Even though she had barely forty-eight hours with Brock before he was called away again. He made it back in time to kiss her at midnight on New Year’s Eve, though there was a healing cut on his back that would probably be a new scar and he looked even more exhausted than he had staggering out of that elevator on Christmas Eve.

Coulson arrived back on New Year’s Day from wherever he’d been - when she asked, he just muttered something about symphony orchestras - and though he looked at the bruises on her neck and the stubble burn on her chin (Brock was considerate, but his beard grew _really fast_ ) with raised eyebrows, he didn’t say anything. Unlike Jemma, who came back from the UK with Fitz the day after that, took one look at Skye and squealed.

“Who’ve you been doing, you bad girl?”

“My maybe-soulmate, who else?” Skye couldn’t help but laugh. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ward watching her and Jemma as they hugged in the middle of the lab, but when she turned her head to look at him, he was walking away.

They weren’t leaving the Hub just yet, and that night she finally found the words to say to Brock, as they lay curled together in the aftermath of yet another bout of spectacular lovemaking. “Ward’s creeping me out.”

Immediately concerned, Brock held her just a little closer. “What’s he doing?”

“Nothing overt, at least not yet,” she clarified. “But he’s always watching me, wherever I am. And he keeps telling me things, like how dangerous you are and how you’re too old for me.” She rolled her eyes. “As if I cared about that. If there’s one thing I know by now, it’s that while you _are_ dangerous, it’s not going to be directed at me.”

“Never,” he promised, to himself as much as to her. “I won’t let anybody hurt you, Skye. And that includes me.”

“I know. But anyway, I think it’s mostly the being watched all the time that’s bugging me. It’s vaguely stalkerish.”

“Have you tried talking to him?” Brock asked.

“Kinda. I’ve countered most of his arguments, anyway. He seems to have all of these excuses that sound terribly _reasonable_ \- but it’s still bothering me.”

“Then talk to May, perhaps,” he suggested. “If he’s making you uncomfortable, it might be a good idea to have someone watching your back. As much as I’d like to take him to task for bothering you, that’s more likely to hurt you in the end. Unfortunately, he’s on your team and I’m not, so I’d rather not put you in the position of being around for him to take his irritation out on when I’m out of reach.”

“That… might not be a bad idea,” Skye admitted quietly. “I guess I can try, anyway.”

“Just promise me something,” he said quietly, his voice low and almost dangerous-sounding. “If he ever makes you feel threatened, go to May immediately and call me as soon as you can.”

“I will,” she promised.

“I’m glad you said something, though,” he told her quietly. “I’m here for you, always, and I want you to feel you can come to me with anything.”

Skye nodded. “I figured you’d want to know. And I’m here for you, too, if you need anything.” She sighed. “I’m not terribly useful right now, but when I get my tech back… well, I’m pretty good at finding things out.”

He snorted in amusement. “Sweetheart, if you hacked SHIELD in spite of that thing from the middle of the Hub, you’re more than ‘pretty good.’ I’ll keep it in mind, should I ever need more intel than I have.”

She smiled, snuggled her head against his chest and closed her eyes, her breathing soon slowing to the deeper rhythm of sleep. Brock lay awake for a while longer, his eyes narrowed in thought.

The following morning, after she’d left to go to a brainstorming session with Coulson and her team, he headed down to the technical department and requisitioned a stack of gadgets for the STRIKE team’s usage. There was nothing unusual about anything he selected, nobody would have been suspicious - but one of the items he slipped into his pocket for a personal project.

Half an hour later, after checking the Hub’s surveillance cameras and ensuring that Coulson’s team were all still on the Bus - a good twenty minutes’ walk from his current location - he slipped quietly into Ward’s assigned quarters after overriding the lock. STRIKE acted as SHIELD’s Internal Affairs division as well and he was well within his rights - not to mention he was definitely senior to Ward in HYDRA, who would silence the younger man in short order if he attempted to make a fuss.

It didn’t take him long to plant the tiny bug where not even someone as paranoid as Ward might find it. Invisible to scanners, it would only work for a week or so before quietly biodegrading to dust. But that should be long enough. Rumlow left the room exactly as he’d found it, slipping his latex gloves into his pocket as he walked away down the corridor.

Of course, he couldn’t exactly listen to Ward in real time. For a start, it would be utterly boring because the guy was pretty damn quiet, and secondly, the times when Ward was in his room were more often than not the times when Skye was with Rumlow, and he had much better things to be doing then than listening to an idiot Specialist who didn’t have the sense to stay away from things that didn’t belong to him. He wrote a quick computer program to filter the bug’s output instead, picking up only when Ward spoke, and ended up with almost nothing after the bug’s week of life was finished.

Except for one phone conversation on the last day. Rumlow didn’t know who Ward was speaking to, but it was pretty obvious from the context that it was a superior HYDRA agent.

 _It’s me. Yes, everything’s going fine. Just checking in. We’re on our way out into the field again soon_.

There were a few murmurs of acknowledgement from Ward, obviously accepting orders. And then, as the conversation seemed to be winding to a close, he asked a question.

 _Sir, I was wondering… when the New Dawn comes - it was suggested that I would receive a reward_.

Rumlow’s ears perked up. He leaned in closer to his laptop unconsciously, as though that would make the words clearer.

_Yes, thank you, sir. I just - I had a question. I understand that if a person with a soulmark is subjected to Dr. Whitehall’s Faustus process, the soulmark disappears?_

Rumlow’s lips curled back from his teeth in a snarl.

_Yes - the reward I want has a soulmark. Her soulmate might not survive the New Dawn anyway, from what I understand, but I’d still need her reprogrammed - thank you, sir. Yes, that’s all I’ll ask for._

This could absolutely _not_ be allowed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week or so after returning to the field, Skye found May in the cockpit. She tapped on the doorway before entering. “Do you have a minute, please, Agent May?”

May glanced over her shoulder at Skye, taking in the serious look on the young woman’s face, and nodded. “Close the door behind you.”

Skye nodded and did so, settling herself into the copilot’s seat. She stared out the window quietly for a long time before speaking. May didn’t say anything, but Skye knew she would just wait patiently. “Brock asked me to talk to you if things started getting too weird for me to handle,” she finally said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Ward is starting to bug me. Every time I see him, he’s watching me. I’ve tried talking to him, but he just brushes it off as being my SO. But he’s constantly trying to pick apart my relationship with Brock, and the way he watches me is getting really creepy.”

May was silent for a long while, and Skye thought her expression seemed thoughtful. “Why me?” she finally asked.

“Because I trust you. And Brock trusts you, too. He said he wouldn’t just trust you with his safety, but he’d trust you with my safety too.”

“Interesting,” May commented, nodding. “Alright. What do you want me to do about it?”

Skye took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Help me to keep eyes on the situation. I’m trying to avoid being alone with him, but it’s not always possible. I don’t actually have any proof that something strange is going on, just that it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“I’ve seen him watching you,” May admitted quietly. “I wouldn’t say that it’s creepy, but it’s not me he’s watching.”

“Do you think maybe I could come up here more often? We don’t have to talk if you want to enjoy the quiet; it would just be nice to have an escape sometimes.”

May thought about that, then nodded. “As long as you understand that sometimes I just want to be alone, I don’t mind. I will tell you if I don’t want company, but I also want to know if you’re really feeling afraid.”

“Deal,” Skye said happily. She let the silence lengthen, just watching the clouds against the blue sky for a long while. “Thank you, Agent May.”

“Have you told Coulson?”

“No, not yet. I don’t want to go to him until I can be really sure there’s something to tell.” She saw May nod from the corner of her eye, accepting the reason as valid. “There was a time when I might have been happy to have someone like Ward interested in me,” she said quietly. “But Brock... well, let’s just say that if it turns out somehow that he’s _not_ my soulmate, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

“Hmmm.” May sounded thoughtful, but she didn’t say anything further and Skye allowed the silence and peace to help her relax for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a few days for Rumlow to decide what move to make. But after a lot of sleepless nights staring at the ceiling, there was only one possible pathway open to him.

He went to Maria Hill.

She came within millimetres of locking him up and throwing away the key, he suspected. Or just putting a bullet through his brain. But she _did_ listen - which was why he’d gone to her and not Fury, who _would_ have just shot him out of hand.

Of course, _then_ he got dragged before Fury. At least they were smart enough to do it as though it was some sort of STRIKE fuckup he was being hauled over the carpet for, and there were enough of those - due to conflicting SHIELD/HYDRA orders - that his HYDRA handlers didn’t even notice.

“Mother _fuckers_ ,” was the first thing Fury said when Rumlow had finally finished detailing everything he knew about HYDRA operating within SHIELD. Hill was silent, but the pain on her face was a terrible thing to see.

“So what do you do now, Rumlow?” Hill asked finally.

He shrugged. “I save everything I can. But I’m telling you now quite honestly, my first priority is Skye. I want Ward off that Bus. Now.”

“We do that, we tip them off,” Fury said immediately. “No. We need to wait. See what’s going on. What their major play is. You really don’t know?”

“I really don’t know. HYDRA is compartmentalised like you wouldn’t believe. I’ll get orders when they’re ready to give them and not before.”

“Then we’re gonna need you to be our ears to the ground, Rumlow,” Fury decided. “Stay where you’re at, do what they want. But keep us in the loop.”

Rumlow hesitated. “I’ll do what I can,” he agreed after a moment. “But I want May and Coulson watching out for Skye as much as they can. And get that damn bracelet off her; she can’t even call for help as long as she’s wearing it.”

“I’m sure Coulson had a perfectly good reason for restricting her access,” Fury began.

“Well, I’m telling you to un-restrict her,” Rumlow growled. “If you want her kept out of restricted areas at the Hub and wherever, I don’t care. But she can’t even use a fucking cell phone if she’s in trouble.”

“Sir, given that Agent Ward seems rather obsessed with the girl, it does seem warranted to be sure she can at least use a phone,” Hill suggested. “I know Skye is considered to be a questionable asset at best,” she paused to send Rumlow an apologetic glance, but from a command perspective it was true, “but she is still considered a consultant and cutting her off from assistance is a risk we would never ask a non-specialist to take.”

“Fine,” Fury agreed. “We’ll talk to Coulson.” The look he gave Hill told her that by “we” he meant “her” and she just nodded.

“Good,” Rumlow agreed. “We’ll need to set up a secure drop location and emergency contact codes. I also want a secure connection to the Bus, and if I can’t get critical information to you by the usual channels, I can always send it through Coulson.”

“I assume you’ll want to tell Skye about this?” Hill asked Rumlow.

“No, at least not right away. She doesn’t have the training to hide something like this from Ward. But I do want to be able to tell her that she’s safe, that’s she’s being looked out for.”

“I think we can work with that. We will have to bring Coulson in on this.”

“You might actually want to start with May,” Rumlow suggested. “Coulson seems a little off to me, but May is always May. Skye already promised to go to May first if Ward tries anything or threatens her in any way.”

Fury and Hill exchanged a glance. “Fine, but Coulson will have to be told some things if you want a secure channel to the Bus.”

Rumlow shrugged. “Just make it work and keep Skye safe."

He hesitated for a long moment before saying quietly, "One more thing you should know. HYDRA's been playing with variants on the super-soldier serum. I was a test subject."

This time it was Hill who said, " _Motherfucker_ ," which raised his eyebrows. "Who else?" she demanded.

"Rollins. Ward, which is how I knew he was HYDRA in the first place. We were enhanced at the same time." He listed half a dozen more names, and then added; "While I can't tell you the names of senior HYDRA agents because I truly don't know them, I can tell you some names that are definitely loyal to SHIELD because they're on elimination lists. You two, obviously.  Rogers, Romanoff and Barton. Coulson, May, Victoria Hand, Robert Gonzales, Felix Blake, Tomas Calderon, Anne Weaver..."

Hill started scribbling notes on a scrap of paper. They both looked at him expectantly when he finished.

"Interesting who's _not_ on that list," Fury said finally when Brock shrugged and said he didn't know any more. He glanced at Hill. “Sitwell, for example. John Garrett.”

“You can’t think _Garrett’s_ HYDRA,” Rumlow said disbelievingly.

“About two hours ago I would have said that about _you_ , Agent Rumlow,” Hill said dryly. “It’s not proof positive, if their names aren’t on that elimination list. But there’s some senior names I’d have expected to hear there that I didn’t, and that seriously worries me. You’ve given us a starting point, though, and the names of some people we _know_ we can trust. Thank God. Because otherwise I’d have no fucking idea where to even _start_.”

Fury nodded, walked around the desk and paused to stare hard at Rumlow from his one black eye. “I’m not going to say thank you, you traitorous bastard. Nor am I going to trust you, because it’s my guess you’d flip again in a hot minute for that girl’s sake, which seriously fucking worries me.”

Rumlow had no answer to that beyond; “I’m pretty sure Skye would never forgive me.”

“Don’t fucking think I will either.”

Rumlow looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t care.”

The slow nod Fury gave him contained respect, if nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WELL. So Brock’s made the biggest decision of his life. NOW things get _interesting_.**


	7. How High?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Skye gets kicked off the Bus, it's pretty obvious who she should call for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during Season 1 episodes 11 and 12, and may use dialogue from these episodes._

[ ](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumlow%20gun_zpsom7zeo7i.jpg.html)

Skye was startled to be called to Coulson’s office. When she arrived, Agent May was already there. “Hey, boss, what’s up?” she asked.

“Close the door please, Skye, and come sit down.” Coulson’s voice was its usual calm and his expression neutral. Skye followed his instructions and sat down. “It has come to our attention that we may be putting you at undue risk under the current circumstances.”

With a frown, Skye looked questioningly at Coulson. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means that with our team working on some fairly dangerous projects, multiple means of communication may be necessary for the safety of all our team members.”

“Woah, wait,” Skye said, slowly beginning to smile. “You mean the bracelet?”

“We will be lifting your restrictions on phone calls and texts,” Coulson clarified. “Internet access will still be blocked, and calls and texts will be monitored.”

“You realize that Brock and I like to text, right?”

Coulson shrugged. “I don’t care about your personal relationship interactions, Skye. The monitor will be looking for keywords associated with our missions or other SHIELD data.”

“Better than nothing,” Skye said with a quiet sigh. “Thank you, sir.”

“Consider this a test run,” Coulson advised. “If you live up to our trust for this much, we’ll talk about the rest.”

“Got it,” she said. “Was there anything more, sir?”

“Not for the moment, no.”

“Do I need to go anywhere for you to reprogram this thing?” she held up her wrist.

Coulson smiled and shook his head. “Already done. You don’t think you’re the only one who can work remotely, do you?”

“Nope, not at all.”

Skye left the room and returned to her bunk. She opened the drawer where her cell phone had been stored and pressed the power button with a smile. She watched it cycle on without being locked down automatically and smiled brighter.

_Hey,_ she sent to Brock via text. _Boss-man lifted the ban on phone calls and texts. Something about placing me at risk if I couldn’t contact anyone. Still no internet, but if all goes well maybe I’ll get that back too._

She didn’t get an answer right away, but that didn’t really surprise her. So she went back to working on her earlier project, scanning SHIELD agents who could possibly be related to her. She was distracted a half-hour or so later by her phone.

_Glad to hear it, sweetheart. I’ll be a little busy the next few days, but I’ll respond when I can._ She smiled, reflecting on just how good it was to be able to contact him again.

_I know you will. That was always the deal. But now I should be able to respond when you’re able to message me._ And wasn’t that an amazing feeling?

Skye found her smile widening when the response to that was a simple _I miss you._

_I miss you too_ , she texted back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Rumlow had thought his life was busy before he came clean to Fury and Hill, it was utter chaos now. He seemed to spend every minute when he wasn’t in company writing down (with an invisible ink pen, on flash paper) everything he knew about HYDRA before dead-dropping it for Hill to pick up. Being a double agent had been hard work. Being a triple agent was worse. And far more terrifying, because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that HYDRA would have him killed the instant they even suspected what he was up to.

_This is for Skye_ , he told himself more than once when he found himself contemplating just walking the fuck away from it all. _If you want Skye to be yours, you have to do this. You have to make it right._

He’d got into the habit of checking his phone immediately on his return from missions. No matter how exhausted he was. There was usually a message from Skye that would make him smile. On one particular occasion, though, the message made the smile drop right off his face.

_Coulson’s been taken. Agent Hand is in charge on the Bus and I’ve been kicked off. I need your help, Brock_.

He didn’t spare a moment. Just ripped off his SHIELD tactical gear and re-dressed in unmarked clothes, dragging on a leather bike jacket and zipping it up over his loaded tac harness. By the time he’d dressed, the response to his _Where are you?_ text had come back.

He went straight to Hill and told her that he was taking a quinjet for a personal mission and it would generally be best if nobody asked any questions. She hesitated, but eventually nodded and told him she’d fix things.

He caught up with Skye right after she’d broken into the financier’s house. He’d told her to wait for him but she was clearly in no mood to wait for anything - she had to be totally panicking about Coulson. The relief on her face when he strode in and put one of Rathman’s security guys headfirst into the wall was indescribable. Her voice was all business, though, when she snapped;

“You’re late, Agent.”

“My apologies, ma’am. You look to be doing just fine without me.” He took in the other security guard - cowering with an expression like he was about to shit his pants, the amateur - and the financier, who was also looking suddenly very terrified. “Is this idiot giving you any trouble, ma’am?” Slowly, menacingly, he drew a shockstick from under his jacket. Activated it so blue electricity crackled up the stick.

“No trouble!” Rathman nearly squealed. “Anything you want! Yes, of course!”

Except, the idiot was the least computer savvy human Brock had ever seen. He exchanged a quick glance with Skye, who shook her wrist subtly so that he saw she was still wearing that damnable control bracelet. His lips thinned, but he nodded sharply, stepped in and shoved Rathman out of his chair.

“Fucking incompetent. Allow me, ma’am.”

Skye quickly hauled Rathman to the other chair, securing him to it beside the conscious security guard, while snapping out instructions for Brock to follow. “Start with the account history, and then open up a terminal emulator.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied again as he began to type. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her secure the men and noted how well she was doing with it. Not bad for a newbie. Good for her.

Skye walked back around the desk and nodded. She continued to give instructions, walking him through what she needed. “There. Click there,” she said, nodding when he did so. “Hello, Raina. Let’s see what you’ve been up to.” She scanned the screen, issued a few more instructions and then nodded. “Print that. That’s what we need.”

“Great,” Rathman said in a tone of long-suffering, which made both Skye and Rumlow roll their eyes. “Are we done now?”

Skye glanced at Brock and he shrugged. “Well, there is one more thing…” she told Rathman with a glimmer in her eyes.

 

When they were on the road, Brock behind the wheel of the sports car simply because Skye figured he had better reflexes than she did, she pulled out the sat phone that FitzSimmons had given her and dialed.

“Simmons? It’s me.” Skye said. She frowned when Simmons tried to play cool on the other end and failed miserably. “Is someone there? God, don’t try to lie. You are the worst at this. Remember our safe word?” Brock snickered, and Skye figured he must be hearing Jemma fumble on the other end as well. Skye heard indistinct voices and tried to get Jemma’s attention again. “Listen up, I may have a lead on where Centipede is hiding Coulson.”

Skye bit her lip when Agent May came on the phone, but she tried to keep her cool. “I followed the money trail, like I said I would,” Skye told her. “I’ve got a little company, but we’re on our way.”

“Company?” May asked, disapproval in her cool tone.

“Brock’s here; he’s helping me around certain restrictions. Look, I know we don’t have long, so here’s what I found...”

 

Skye and Brock wandered through the deserted shell of a town, staying within sight but not too close. When the Centipede soldier found Skye she ran, ducking around buildings in hopes of giving Brock a chance to ambush the soldier. He’d just kicked the man out into the roadway when the rest of Skye’s team showed up, hitting the soldier with the SUV.

The team stood for a moment, getting their bearings and about to split up again when the first soldier picked himself up off the ground and a second one showed up. The team split, Ward on one and May on the other. Skye was still searching for Coulson, Brock at her back, when they all heard a scream. Leaving the team to deal with the soldiers, Skye took off towards the sound of the scream.

What she found had her pause in shock for just a moment, then she quickly moved into the room. She sent Raina to the floor with a single solid punch, and Brock chuckled as he picked the girl up and held onto her. Skye ran to the machine Coulson was in, trying hard to ignore his pleas to be allowed to die. She checked the controls but had no idea what she was doing; then May joined her and just unplugged the whole machine.

“Coulson,” Skye whispered, taking the man’s hand gently. “Come back, come back.”

“Skye,” he whispered, panting. “Skye.” She held his hand tightly, resting her forehead against his arm as she helped anchor him to the present.

“Rumlow,” Coulson said with a brief nod of greeting as he allowed Skye and May to help him down from the machine.

“Coulson,” he replied. With a glance at Skye, he hauled Raina outside. Skye, Coulson and May followed, just a bit slower. Once outside, Skye and May took Coulson to the SUV where Jemma immediately started checking him for injuries. Rumlow and Ward secured Raina in the back of the vehicle.

Leaving Ward to watch over the prisoner, May nearby, Brock approached Skye again. “Hey, sweetheart.”

She turned to smile at him. “Hey,” she answered. She stepped into his arms and they held each other for a moment. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re kidding, right?” he found a smile coming to his face as she pressed her face against his throat. “This was nothing. I’ll always have your back, Skye. All you have to do is call.”

She hugged on tighter for a moment, and he realised there were tears running down her cheeks. “Hey. Hey, sweetheart, don’t cry. It’s gonna be alright. Coulson’s okay and you did an amazing job, I don’t doubt you could have gotten exactly the same result even if I couldn’t have come to help.”

She turned her face up to kiss him almost desperately and he returned the embrace, running his fingers into her hair to hold her closer.

“Rumlow,” May’s voice interrupted. “We need to move. Got to get Coulson to the Bus for a proper medical checkup.”

He lifted his head reluctantly. “I need to get back.”

“Oh, but…” Skye’s fingers clenched in his jacket. “You have to go now?”

“Technically I’m not actually AWOL since I did tell Commander Hill I was leaving, but it’s probably a bit close for comfort,” he admitted. “Plus I kind of stole a quinjet.”

May gave him a Look. And then she quite deliberately stuck her fingers in her ears and walked away.

Skye started to giggle wearily against his chest. “Brock.”

“What?” he grinned, bent his head and kissed her again. “Fuck ‘em, baby. I’d have stolen a damn Helicarrier if that was what it took.”

“I love you,” she said, and looked suddenly a bit shocked.

“Good. Because I’m so fucking in love with you I can’t think straight.”

When he finally had to let her go and step back, he found Ward watching them. The other man didn’t look away until Rumlow met and held his eyes for a long, tense moment.

He took Skye’s hand to walk her to the SUV. Coulson was pretty nearly unconscious in the back seat, Jemma working frantically to secure an IV in his arm and make him comfortable. Skye wriggled into the seat, taking Coulson’s head in her lap, smoothing his thinning hair gently, and Coulson mustered enough strength to give her a smile.

“Get better soon, Coulson,” Brock said quietly. “Your team need you.” One last caress to Skye’s hair and he was walking away. May came up beside him, though, and he paused, shot her a fierce look. “Get that fucking bracelet off her.”

“I’ll see to it. She’s earned it.” May seemed to be hesitating over something.

“Spit it out, Melinda.”

“About that other thing.” May’s dark eyes flickered in Ward’s direction.

“Yes? I take it there won’t be a problem?” His tone implied _There better fucking well not be_.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got it under control. He’s just trying to protect her.”

Rumlow hesitated before nodding. “All right. I trust you to keep an eye on the situation.”

“Thank you,” she said dryly, before offering her hand to shake. “And thank you for your help today, as well.”

He shrugged it off, saying that all Skye had to do was say jump and he’d only ask how high. That made her smirk before leaving him to head back to his jet alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock had to try very hard not to panic when STRIKE were called in to deal with what appeared to be a Gifted individual at the SHIELD Academy and he learned that Coulson’s team was on site. And _because_ Coulson’s team was on site, Cap wasn’t sent in with them. He exchanged a grim look with Rollins when they got _that_ particular tidbit of news.

“Fucking Gifteds,” Rollins grunted. “How many dead are there going to be this time?”

Brock just gritted his teeth and checked his weapons. “None, if I can fucking help it.”

Of course, the atmospheric storm was so damned severe they couldn’t even land until it was all over. Brock seriously debated parachuting in anyway but being struck by lightning in an ice storm wasn’t on his preferred list of ways to die.

He found Skye once it was all over, standing in the atrium at the Academy in front of the Wall of Valor. Stopping for a moment, he bowed his head in respect, reaching out to trace a few names on the Wall.

“Friends?” Skye asked softly, coming to his side and taking his hand.

“We all lose people. When you command a team, it’s harder. Telling a parent that your orders got their son or daughter killed…” he shook his head. “The worst thing I’ve ever had to do. Bar none.” Turning to look at her, he spotted Ward walking away before he looked at her face. And then he saw the tear tracks on her cheeks. “Jesus, Skye! What happened?”

With a sob, she stepped into his embrace, resting her head on his chest and letting him hold her tight as she shivered. “Oh, _Brock_.”

Eventually, she managed to get it out, between sobs. Told him what Coulson had found out about her background.

“I thought - thought whatever I’d find out couldn’t be worse than what I’d imagined. But it is. Oh God, it is, it’s so much worse, all those people dead because of _me_ …”

He held her gently, stroking her hair as she spoke. “No, Skye,” he said quietly. “Not because of you. Because of whoever or whatever was hunting you. But this is _not_ your fault.” He wiped her eyes gently with a tissue from a small pack he kept in his vest pocket; usually for cleaning other things up, but she didn’t need to know that.

Hand in hand, they left the atrium and walked slowly down the walk between buildings. “Coulson told me that it’s too dangerous to keep digging, and I agreed with him,” she said after a bit. “I don’t want to risk my team or anyone else because I can’t let the past go.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “But I decided that was okay. Coulson said that the story had to end here. But it doesn’t.”

“What do you mean?” he asked softly when she paused.

“All those years, I thought I kept getting sent back to the orphanage because no one wanted me, because no one cared. But it was all really meant to protect me instead. It doesn’t need to be about the family I never had, not anymore. Now it’s about the family I’ve always had but didn’t know. SHIELD is my family, my team is my family.” She looked up at him, her eyes damp but bright. “Plus I have you, and I believe you when you tell me that’s not going to change. So no, my story doesn’t end here. It _starts_ here. And even though I don’t know where it will take me, I think I’m finally ready to see where that road goes.”

Brock stared at her, amazed, as he listened to her speak. “You’re something else, sweetheart. I don’t know too many people who could hear a story like that and not be hurt by it.”

“It does hurt; it hurt to hear, to know that so many people died because of what happened. But if I let that bring me down, or stop me from living my life... then all those people will have died for nothing. I can’t let that happen.”

“You’re an amazing woman, Skye,” he told her, sincerity burning in his eyes. She let him tug her into his arms again, her chin resting against his chest as she looked up at him. “Don’t you ever let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

She smiled. “I’ll remember. Thanks for listening, though. It helps.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. You just say the word, and I’ll always be here for you.”

“Which reminds me, why are you here? I wasn’t expecting to see you at SciTech.” She smiled again. “Not that I’m upset about it. Just curious.”

“We got called in to pick up a new Gifted,” he told her, not giving her much detail. “Usually when we get a call like this, more than one person ends up dead. Your team did a good job.”

“It was more like an experiment gone wrong, but I get it.”

“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised how often that sort of thing has side-effects.”

She sighed. “Probably not. But it’s alright.”

“Come on. I’ll walk you back to the Bus before I meet up with my team.” He kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked together, enjoying the way she leaned into him. Wishing he could have more than just these few stolen minutes with her, but he’d already received the signal to take his team back to the Triskelion.

As they approached the Bus, though, Brock saw something that made him feel suddenly uneasy. Rollins and Ward were standing together near the foot of the ramp, talking earnestly in low tones. They both looked up as he approached with Skye, looking at the pair of them.

Brock had gotten kind of used to seeing the slightly jealous expression on Ward’s face. Seeing it on Rollins, though, threw him a little. He wanted to write it off as just a general feeling of jealousy, towards him for having such a young and gorgeous soulmate, but - knowing what he did about Rollins...

A shiver ran down his spine.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***spooky music in background***
> 
>  
> 
> **So Skye and Brock get closer, but everything else starts to go wrong… we are, of course, on a rapid collision course with a freight train known as Project Insight...**


	8. I Failed Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock can't get to Skye when she needs him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter occur during season 1 episodes 13 and 14 and may contain portions of dialogue from those episodes._
> 
> _Please note that we do not intend to precisely cover all events that occur on screen. This chapter is written from the perspective of people who were not present for the episodes._
> 
> _Discussions of serious injury and possible major character death occur in this chapter._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rollins%20and%20rumlow_zpsjvzayftb.jpg.html)

“Grab that, Jack. Go here and get shot at, Jack. Hold the fort while I disappear without orders to go fuck my gorgeous soulmate who’s half my age, Jack,” Rollins grumbled under his breath, watching Rumlow stalk ahead of him along the halls of the Triskelion. He was very careful to keep his muttering inaudible, knowing just how good Rumlow’s hearing was now, though.

“Keep the fuck up, Jack,” Rumlow called over his shoulder then. He and Cap were striding along, shoulder to shoulder, heading for the STRIKE quinjet. They were on their way out to a mission in some godforsaken place at the ass-end of the world, where no doubt Rollins would yet again be dodging bullets. And yet again Rumlow would swan off afterwards to fuck that gorgeous babe of his.

Or perhaps not. Rollins smiled a private little smile to himself, slipped his phone from his pocket and typed a response to the text he’d just received.

_Shoot her, Quinn._

He didn’t bother waiting for a response. Just deleted the conversation and slid the phone into his secure locker before boarding the quinjet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The team sat in the waiting room in Zurich, silent as the doctors worked on Skye. The stillness was broken by Coulson’s phone ringing.

“Coulson,” he answered, his voice strained.

“Coulson, it’s Maria Hill,” she said over the line.

“Thank God,” he said under his breath. “I need to talk to Fury. I have an agent dying, and I need to know who he got to work on me after New York.”

There was a pause on the line, then Hill said quietly, “I don’t have the answers to your questions. Fury is off the grid for the moment, but I’ll have him contact you as soon as I hear from him.”

“By then it may be too late,” Coulson said bleakly.

“Who’s the agent?”

“It’s Skye. She took two shots to the stomach.”

Hill took a deep breath; it was audible over the phone connection. “As soon as I hear anything, we’ll be in touch. Do you want me to contact Rumlow?”

“Is he available?”

“Not immediately, no. But his mission should be wrapping up shortly.”

“Fine. Someone should let him know what’s going on; if he can help when he’s done, great. We need all the help we can get.”

“I’ll do what I can. And I’ll keep her in my thoughts,” Hill promised.

“Thanks.” With a sigh and a shake of his head for the hopeful looks from his team, Coulson put the phone away again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock was exhausted. The mission had been dicey to begin with, between SHIELD orders and HYDRA’s. In the end, he’d managed to mostly fulfill HYDRA’s directives while managing to snag some of what SHIELD needed on the down low. But it was getting harder and harder to do so without tipping off the rest of his team.

The last thing he expected when they got back to the quinjet was to be handed a headset and told to call HQ on the secure line. With a glance around at his team, he made sure everyone was settled before taking the headset to the cockpit. Thankfully, this time the pilot was straight SHIELD to the best of anyone’s knowledge. It happened sometimes, though not often. So Rumlow could count on the man having his headset tuned only to the air control towers and not to his call.

“Rumlow,” he said when the line connected. “STRIKE Team Alpha, checking in as ordered.”

“Hold please.” He waited to be routed to whomever wanted to speak with him. He was startled when it was Maria Hill herself. “Rumlow, it’s Hill.”

“Agent Hill,” he greeted her politely. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have good news. I’m calling to inform you that Skye has been wounded on a mission.”

Brock froze. Took a deep breath, then another to rein in his temper. “What happened?”

“Unclear; Coulson’s team hasn’t filed reports. They’re at a medical facility in Zurich. All I know is that Skye was shot twice in the stomach, and everyone is trying to find a way to keep her alive.”

Rumlow saw red. Skye, _his Skye_ was injured and possibly dying. “How?” he bit out the question sharply, his voice low and dangerous. “Who?”

“As I said, I don’t know.”

“Detour us to Zurich. I want to be there _right fucking now_.”

“I’ll authorize it,” Hill said crisply.

“Keep me posted. I’ll be in-flight,” he demanded.

“I will,” Hill agreed before signing off.

_Bloody fucking hell._ Brock suddenly wanted to check his personal phone, desperately. Unfortunately, he’d had to leave it back at the Triskelion in his secure storage locker. _Damn, damn, damn._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they landed in Zurich, Coulson had taken Skye, gone to Bethesda, failed to get help and then disappeared. Without orders. Brock swore long and colourfully and called Hill again. She wasn’t available to take his call. He tried Victoria Hand instead and got orders to intercept the Bus by any means necessary.

“Fuck off,” he said quite calmly, and cut the connection.

“What. The Hell. Is going on?” He turned to see Cap standing in the doorway. “Did I just hear you mention _Coulson’s_ name?”

“I do not fucking have time for this right now,” Rumlow looked past Cap, saw Rollins watching him. “Just. Fucking _no_.” He pulled Cap fully into the room and slammed the door in Rollins’ face. “Listen the fuck up. I’m gonna need Stark’s help, and you’re the only one who can get it for me.”

Steve’s eyes went very wide. “I’m listening. Tony doesn’t like SHIELD much, though…”

“Right now, neither do I!”

Before Stark could find the Bus, though, Hill called back. “Skye’s going to be all right,” was the first thing she said, without preamble.

He’d been awake for two days straight at that point, stressing and panicking. He went to his knees, a sob escaping him. The doctors he’d talked to in Zurich and at Bethesda had told him there was no hope. That Skye would die.

“Rumlow,” Steve’s big hand came down on his shoulder, and then the headset was being plucked off his head. “Agent Hill? It’s Captain Rogers. What the hell did you just say to him?”

“Just get him back to HQ, Cap,” Hill said wearily. “We’ll deal with this there.”

Rollins suggested a tranquiliser, since Rumlow was just sitting on the quinjet muttering darkly to himself, his eyes not quite sane. Steve, though, shook his head. “No. I’ll not do that to him. His soulmate almost died, Jack. He’s got a right to his feelings.”

Steve felt that he should stay with Rumlow. Have the other man’s back, as Rumlow had his on so many missions in the last year. But once they arrived back at the Triskelion, Rumlow took his phone from his locker, looked at it tight-lipped and turned to walk away.

“Rumlow… _Brock_.”

“No, Cap. Better you don’t know.” Dark eyes flashed up to meet his. “You don’t want to be a part of what I’m about to do.” And the other man was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_I failed her_. It was all Brock could think as he walked through the Triskelion, scrolling through the increasingly stressed messages on his phone. The last one from Skye said simply;

_Please come if you can._

And then the other messages started up. Jemma. May. Fitz. _Skye’s hurt. She needs you. She’s dying, Brock. Quinn shot her. Please come_.

Messages from Coulson. _We have to invade a facility called the Guest House. We could use your help, Rumlow. This is for Skye. Hill said she’d spoken to you, where the fuck are you?_

That last made him shut his eyes, seething with rage. He was almost to his quarters. Slammed inside, closed the door before starting to strip off his gear, pulling on the same unmarked clothes and leather jacket he’d worn when he went to help Skye once before. This time, though, he was going to avenge her. To make very sure that whoever had ordered her shot was _destroyed_ , completely and utterly. And if that meant HYDRA, then so be it.

He didn’t bother knocking on Hill’s office door. Just strode in and slammed it behind him.

“Talk.”

“You do not give me orders, Agent Rumlow,” she didn’t glance up from her paperwork. Until his hand closed on the front of her uniform, lifting her out of her chair and slamming her up against the wall. “Oh,” was about all she said when she saw the look in his eyes.

“Consider this my resignation, Hill. I’m done with not being available when Skye needs me. But I have a job to do first. So tell me. Where are they taking Ian Quinn?”

“You know I can’t tell you that. But you also know there’s only one place that we put people like him,” she said carefully. She knew she was walking a very fine line, but she also knew that Rumlow wasn’t really pissed at _her_. At least not this time.

She watched his eyes darken as she confirmed his suspicion without actually telling him anything and he nodded as he abruptly let her go. “Rumlow,” she said, and he paused with his hand on the doorknob. “You’ve walked a dangerous line for longer than I expected. Be careful out there. And if things get bad…”

“I’ll remember,” he replied in a low voice. Without another word he left her office. Hill sighed; she was not looking forward to reporting _this_ to Fury. Sitting back down at her computer, she did one last small thing for Rumlow as a thank-you.

It didn’t take long for Brock to gather up what few personal belongings he kept on base. Most of it was stashed in storage lockers or remote safe-houses, though at least two of the latter were a loss because he’d taken Rollins to them after missions gone south. So it was a bit of a shock to him that when he reached the gate twenty minutes later, there was a pack waiting in his name.

“What’s this?” he asked the guard who handed it over.

The gate guard shrugged. “It was sent up from Supply in your name. It has authorization from the Assistant Director’s office, so I didn’t ask. Above my clearance level.”

“Thanks,” Brock said gruffly, accepting the bag. He had no idea what kind of gear Hill had sent him, but he was certain it would come in handy at some point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye was bored. Awake, stuck in the medical pod and not allowed to work. And she got it; she understood that everyone was being careful with her because she’d almost died. She had no desire to live through the past few days again, either. But the boredom might kill her, too.

“Hey, Jemma?” Skye asked the next time her friend came in to draw blood.

“Yes, Skye?” Jemma’s voice was wearily patient.

“Do you think maybe I could have my cell phone?” she asked, her eyes pleading. “I know you don’t want me stressed or working, but I thought maybe Brock would like to hear from me. I can text without moving too much…”

“Oh, my... I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” Jemma actually looked ashamed.

“Wait, did you tell him…?”

“Of _course_ we told him. You were _dying_ , Skye. We thought he should know, in case…” Skye bit her lip, but nodded. She couldn’t really hold it against them. “Sure, I will get your phone for you. But no getting emotional, okay? If your heart rate starts to increase, I will take it away again.”

“I’ll do my best,” Skye said quietly. “But if you told him I was dying, I can’t promise to stick only to happy topics.”

“I get that, Skye,” Jemma said quietly. “I just want you to be careful.”

“I know,” Skye answered softly. “Thanks, Jemma. For taking such good care of me, even if I’m a pain in the ass.”

Jemma smiled and left the med pod. She was back in a few minutes with Skye’s phone and its charger. “Looks like your battery died. But I can plug this in over here,” she did so as she spoke, “and you can turn it back on.”

“Thanks, Jemma,” Skye said as she pressed the power button. When it finished loading she scrolled through her messages; there weren’t many. Though in her email was a cute little get-well card from Steve Rogers. The last text - from Brock, of course - tugged at her heart.

_They told me you were getting better, beautiful. I hope to hear from you soon._

Smiling a little, Skye began to type slowly. _I’m getting better. Sorry it’s been a few days; I’ve been sleeping a lot, and Jemma only just let me have my phone._

The answer came quickly; much faster than she was expecting. _As long as you’re healing, that’s all I care about. How are you?_

_I’m... okay. Sore, but it doesn’t feel like fire burning through my body to breathe anymore. I kinda wish I were still sleeping more, though. I’m bored, and they won’t let me have my computer or anything._

She could just hear him chuckling when she received back an amused emoji. Another message followed shortly. _I wish I could be there to help keep you company, but I’ve got a few things to wrap up before I can get away to see you. I’m sorry about that._

_No, it’s okay._ She replied quickly. Then in a second message, _I get it. SHIELD keeps you plenty busy. I’m sure you’re doing good things, and I’m content knowing that you’re out there doing them._

There was no reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Is_ ** **he doing good things? By whose definition of _good_? Suddenly feeling very sorry for Ian Quinn, though… And I would not want to be Rollins if Brock ever finds out that he gave Quinn that order...**


	9. Off The Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events conspire to keep them apart a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events of this chapter occur during season 1 episode 15, and may include dialogue from the episode. There are also some spoilers for Captain America: The Winter Soldier - though we hope that movie is old enough to not need spoiler warnings.

Definitely some Danger here...

* * *

 

“I miss him,” Skye said sadly to Jemma one evening, as the two girls sat in the medical pod. Jemma had taken to coming in and playing cards with Skye, though she was quite insistent about checking Skye’s heartrate every five minutes. Or so it felt like.

“I’m sure he’ll come soon,” Jemma said reassuringly. “And we’re busy! On our way to California now to check on these strange readings!”

“You guys are busy,” Skye grumbled. “I’m stuck here playing Angry Birds. And no, I’m not letting myself get excited over it,” as she saw Jemma’s expression. “It’s actually quite satisfying. Especially the ones that explode.”

Jemma couldn’t help but chuckle. “All right. You just take it easy, Skye.” She stood, gathering the cards. “We nearly lost you. Get some rest now. You never know, we might actually need your help in California.”

“I hope not,” Skye said dryly, reluctantly lying back against her pillows. “I wouldn’t mind LA or San Fran, but Death Valley isn’t on my bucket list of places to see.”

“Really? It’s rather fascinating, there’s a quite unique ecosystem, creatures there that have evolved to be perfectly adapted for their environment…”

Skye let out a loud fake snore. Jemma paused, then laughed. “Good night, Skye.”

She waited until Jemma had left to slip her phone out from under her pillow. There was a new message from Brock that made her smile happily and hug the phone to her for a moment.

_Nearly dealt with that business I need to take care of. I’ll be with you soon, sweetheart._

She texted back _We’re on our way to California. I’ll keep you posted on our location_.

_You do that. And go to sleep. It’s late where you are._

She rolled her eyes. _You fuss worse than Simmons._

_That’s because I love you. And I want you to have plenty of energy when I finally catch up with you._

_Why, Mr Rumlow, whatever for?_

_If you don’t know by now, I ain’t been doing it right. Go to sleep._

She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty six hours later, Skye’s phone beeped a new text alert. She was all alone, the rest of the team off to wherever they’d tracked Lorelei; Skye had just gotten a message from Simmons that if Ward showed up with a woman, to absolutely NOT let them onto the Bus. Not that Skye could do so from the med pod anyway, but she supposed the warning was still nice.

Picking up her phone, Skye read the message. _All set here, sweetheart. Where are you?_

_Still in California_ , she sent back. _But for the love of uncanny Norse Gods, you need to NOT come here right now!_

The response was prompt. _Why not? What’s going on?_

Skye sighed. As much as she wanted to see him, it was a bad idea. _Lady Sif is here from Asgard to track down a woman named Lorelei. She apparently enchants men into doing her bidding for her and she’s trying to build an army. I just got a warning not to let Ward on the Bus, so she must’ve gotten to him. I really don’t want to think about the fall-out of you fighting my team because of some stupid sorceress._

The delay after sending her lengthy message got on Skye’s nerves. She noticed her heartrate monitor increasing and tried to take deep breaths. But she didn’t put the phone down, and the instant her alert sounded she was reading the message.

_I’d like to think nothing could turn me against you, but Asgardian magic is something else._

_I’m sorry. I miss you terribly, and I wish you could come. But…_

_But I won’t risk becoming a liability to you. Alright, sweetheart. I’ll stay out of the way for now. Let me know when things are settled?_

Skye smiled softly. _I promise. In the meantime, how are you? No new injuries from your last mission, I hope?_

Her phone beeped again, and she thumbed open the message. _I’m good. Nothing new worth mentioning at the moment. But I miss you, and I wish like hell that I could be there with you._

_I know you do,_ she sent back. _You’ll be here soon. Besides, Jemma’s still got me on bed rest. With any luck she’ll at least let me out of the med pod by the time you’re here._

_If not, I’ll sit with you as much as you want._ The reply came quickly. _As long as we’re together, I’ll be happy._

_Careful,_ she sent, along with a flirty icon to let him know she was teasing. _Keep that up and I might think you’re going all soft and romantic on me._

She imagined him laughing, and the sound in her memory made her miss him all the more. _IF I am, it’s all because of you._ She smiled again at his response, unable not to when he said such things.

_I think that might be one thing I wouldn’t mind being blamed for._ Because apparently there was way more of the hidden romantic in her than she would ever willingly admit to; she just hadn’t ever had anyone care for her enough to bring it out.

A moment later, she heard boots outside the door, looked up to see May coming in. “We’re going to need you,” May said without preamble. “Lorelei took Ward. We don’t know where.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock stood staring at his phone for a while, but she didn’t respond again. He sighed, looked around. He was in the airport in Atlanta, had been just about to buy a ticket for California. But he really didn’t want to risk becoming a liability to Skye.

“So… where to, sir?” the woman at the ticketing desk asked in bored tones, even as her eyes traced over him admiringly.

“Washington, D.C.,” he said finally. _I guess I should check in with Fury and Hill, see what’s going on - I’ve got more information for them, too_. A small, private smile slid across his face as he thought of just how eager Ian Quinn had been to tell him everything he knew. Not that Quinn would ever be telling anybody anything ever again. Brock had made _very_ sure of that.

“And where the fuck have you been, Rumlow?” was Fury’s snarled question as he stormed into the tiny hole-in-the-wall coffee shop where Rumlow had asked to meet. “Have you any idea how fucking useless Rollins is as STRIKE team leader? He can’t keep Cap in line at all!”

Rumlow grinned as the other man dropped into a seat facing him. “Now you _know_ you didn’t pay me enough.”

“Apparently not, you traitorous motherfucker,” but there was no heat in Fury’s words. “Did you enjoy making a mess of Ian Quinn?”

“I did, actually. And I heard some things that might be of interest to you, once I’d chased down a few leads he put me onto. Apparently, Project Insight might not be exactly what you thought it was.”

Fury froze. “What?” he growled out after a moment.

Rumlow slid some folded sheets of paper across the table. Fury trapped them under his hand, still staring hard at him. “I don’t know the planned launch date for those helicarriers, but having seen how close they are to complete, I’m guessing it’s not far away. You’ll want to check this out before you let them go up.”

“Fuck.” Fury’s hand actually shook as he picked up the papers and slid them into a concealed pocket inside his coat. “Where are you going now, Rumlow?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know, yet. I was planning on going to join Coulson’s team, if they’ll have me. But they’ve got Asgardian issues right now and don’t want me there.”

“Yes, I know all about Lorelei,” Fury waved his hand impatiently. “Hill’s sent them some female agents. I couldn’t spare Romanoff, and I still don’t want the Avengers to know Coulson’s alive…”

“Rogers heard me mention Coulson’s name. I’d be willing to bet Stark’s already digging.”

Fury’s face twisted. “Right. Well. Whatever, it looks as though I have bigger problems right now.”

“You sure as hell do. I heard a name. The _Lemurian Star_.”

Fingers tapped on the table as Fury thought. “You ever heard of Georges Batroc?”

“Ran across him once in Algeria. As mercs go, he’s not so bad. He stays bought.”

“Think you could track him down for me?”

Rumlow shrugged. “Sure.”

“This is off the books, obviously…”

“As am I, these days.”

“In that case,” Fury’s grin was vicious, “tell Batroc I’ve got a little piracy job for him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rumlow sat in the waiting area of the airport in DC, his phone in his hand. He sighed and pulled up Skye’s text history, then started a new message. _I’m afraid I have to go dark for a few days, sweetheart._

_Everything alright?_ she sent back quickly. Damn, she must really be bored.

_New mission; headed to Europe for a few days._

_I understand. We’re still dealing with Asgardians anyway. Just be careful, please._ He shook his head, a little regretful that this had become the norm for their relationship. It wasn’t what he’d thought would happen when he resigned from SHIELD. It wasn’t what he wanted for her, either. But he would deal with it for now, and hopefully find a way to ensure her safety  in the near future.

_It shouldn’t be too dangerous, this time. But I will._ He smiled a little, appreciating that despite her near-death experience she was still more worried about him.

_Good. And don’t worry about me. Coulson had me hacking cameras, but I’m still not allowed out of the Med Pod. I haven’t even gotten to meet Lady Sif yet._ Even through text, she sounded annoyed.

_You’ll have to get Coulson to introduce you, then._ He looked up as the PA called boarding for his flight. _Flight’s boarding. Remember that I love you, and rest up until I get back._

_I love you too, Brock. Be safe._

He pressed his hand to his chest, where a tiny computer chip nestled inside a piece of folded paper in his shirt pocket. There were going to be a whole lot of people who wouldn’t stay safe if this all went as far south as he was beginning to suspect it would. But he seriously didn’t care all that much about those other people. Only about Skye.

The problem was, of course, that _she_ would care. He sighed and pushed to his feet, heading for the gate. _Huh. Not even SHIELD anymore, and I’m still doing Fury’s dirty work. Maybe I’ll get paid more as a contractor?_

His grin contained no humour at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mr Bakshi, sir?” Rollins checked over his shoulder out of habit, but he was very much alone. “I - think we might have a problem.

“I don’t like problems. Not at this stage of the operation. Speak.” Bakshi’s authoritative English voice was sharp at the other end of the phone. Rollins winced. He really didn’t like being the bearer of bad news. That was why Rumlow was the STRIKE commander, not him. He scowled at the thought of Rumlow.

“I think Rumlow might have turned.”

“ _What_?” it was a shout at the other end of the line that made Rollins wince again. “ _Why_?”

“Why do I think it, or why would he turn?”

“Both!”

“Well,” Rollins took a deep breath and prepared to explain, “there’s this girl. Who may or may not be his soulmate...”

There was silence at the other end for a long moment after he finished speaking, and then Bakshi said;

“I’ll follow up on what information he got out of Quinn. Sit tight, Rollins. You’ll get new orders soon.”

He was a bit surprised that Bakshi must have moved so fast, when less than an hour later he was being called to the office of Secretary Pierce himself.

“Congratulations on your promotion to leader of STRIKE Team Alpha, Agent Rollins,” the Secretary shook his hand and smiled for the camera one of his aides was holding, before gesturing him to a seat and waving everyone else out. The instant the door closed, the smile dropped off Pierce’s face. “How the _fuck_ did this happen?”

“Sir?” Rollins said blankly.

“Rumlow! Whitehall and Bakshi assured me that he was a good man, that he didn’t need to be subjected to the Faustus Process!”

Rollins’ mouth fell open. “ _You’re_ HYDRA?”

“Well at least they were right about _that_ , _you_ at least didn’t know.” Pierce was pacing in front of the windows of his office. “Supposedly Rumlow didn’t either. I have to hope he didn’t because otherwise Nick Fury will be gunning for me. Actually he’d probably already have had Barton put an arrow through my eyeball. So I have to assume I’m in the clear - for now. This is going to force my hand, though, we need to move the whole schedule up.”

Rollins was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that the _Secretary of Defense_ was HYDRA. A member of the _World Security Council_. Realising he was gaping like an idiot, he closed his mouth with an effort, and when Pierce finally fell silent with his rant, said a bit weakly;

“What are your orders, sir?”

Pierce sat down in his huge executive chair, swung back and forth slowly, surveying the man before him. “Are _you_ loyal, Agent Rollins?”

“Yes, sir! Hail HYDRA, sir!”

“That’s good. That’s good to hear.” Pierce leant forward, staring at him. “We’d been counting on Rumlow - and you, of course - to take care of Fury and Captain Rogers when the time came. But if Rumlow turned, they know about you. Won’t let you close enough to do the job. I’ll have to make alternative arrangements.”

Rollins swallowed. “Yes, sir. Should I - drop out of sight?”

“No. Stay in place. You can still be useful, and we’ll still need the STRIKE team. But I want you to track down Rumlow, using SHIELD resources. I’ve put him on the list of AWOL fugitives - I don’t understand why Hill didn’t already after he went to the Fridge without orders and killed an unarmed prisoner, surely she doesn’t think she can just sweep that under the carpet? Anyway, it’s done now. And when he comes back on the grid, you kill him, you understand me?”

A grin spread across Rollins’ face, and he got to his feet and saluted. A proper HYDRA salute, which made Pierce smile too. “That order is very gladly acknowledged, sir. I’ll bring you his head on a silver platter.”

“Good.” Pierce watched him leave, waiting for the door to click closed behind him before picking up the phone and pressing a button. “Dr Klein? Yes. Good. I’m going to need you to prepare the Asset for a mission.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh dear. Houston, we may have a problem. You better watch your back, Rumlow… Rollins just painted a great big target on it.


	10. Allies and Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HYDRA makes their move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter takes place during Season 1, episode 16 and the beginning of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. If anyone hasn’t seen them, there will be spoilers. Some scenes mirror the originals, and some deliberately contain changes. There are also some possible minor spoilers for events of Season 2._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/tumblr_nnbw6fIngE1tas9a7o1_540_zpszwq8qnqz.jpg.html)

Brock was tired. Satisfied, but tired. The meeting with Batroc had gone about as he expected, which meant Fury should be pleased with the coded message he’d sent. Now, though, he was phone-less. Mostly tech-less, actually. His things were stashed in a secure locker and mostly turned off to prevent GPS signals from being traced. He had a couple of Agents to find.

STRIKE Team Gamma: modeled off of Team Delta, Fury needed to know that this team hadn’t also gone rogue. Delta was on Hydra’s Eliminate list; Gamma wasn’t on either list, which meant they were unknowns. Their last known location wasn’t terribly far from where he’d met Batroc, so Brock had agreed to look them up while he was around.

It was better than doing nothing while Skye had an Asgardian problem.

He’d met the agents of Team Gamma a few times previously, though he didn’t know them well. But the fact that they’d recognize him would probably keep them from shooting first and asking questions later. Which was a plus in his book; Fury hadn’t given him a good way to make contact with the wayward team, so he was making it up as he went.

His hope was to leave them a signal requesting contact. He had SHIELD protocols memorized for a reason; every STRIKE team did. Hoping for the best wasn’t something he often did, but this time he was flying by the seat of his pants. And that was not a comfortable feeling.

Brock closed his eyes and pictured Skye. Thinking of her helped him to relax, and he eventually managed to fall asleep, knowing tomorrow would be another busy day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took two damned days for Gamma Team to contact him; two days in which he sat in increasingly frustrated rage, certain that he could be doing more if he could only get back to the States. Fury and Hill weren’t answering his messages asking irritably if there was anything else he could be doing while he waited. So it was perhaps inevitable that he was in a seriously bad mood when Agent Morse walked up to him in the park, smiling sweetly, and said;

“Thanks for waiting, darling, sorry I’m late.” She linked her arm in his and kissed his cheek.

He suppressed an urge to backhand her into the nearby pond and turned to start walking with her. Just two lovers out for a stroll. He spotted Hartley sitting on a nearby bench fiddling with her phone, she glanced up and met his eyes very briefly. She’d watch their backs, make sure nobody got close enough to eavesdrop while he and Morse talked.

“You’re _very_ fucking late,” he couldn’t quite resist saying.

“Things came up. You know how it is.” Her blue eyes flickered across at him, and she smiled sweetly.

“Yes. Well, others of us have things to do as well,” he muttered, but then he brought his other hand up and pressed it lightly on the fingers she had tucked in the crook of his elbow. Her eyes widened very slightly as he passed the computer chip folded in the piece of paper to her.

“A message from the boss,” he murmured very softly, his lips not moving. Even if someone was watching them with a telescopic scope, they wouldn’t have been able to read his lips to know what he said.

“Mm-hm,” Morse said, and he felt her fold the chip into her hand. “Anything interesting happening?” she said brightly.

“Repositioning, I think,” was all he said. He didn’t know what the chip did or what the coded message from Fury ordered her to do, but he could guess that it wouldn’t be something simple. Not for Gamma Team. The way she responded once she got the orders would tell Fury whether she was loyal or not, but for now his job was done.

They walked for a little while longer, keeping up the pretence of a couple meeting on their lunch hour, chatting inconsequentially. And then Morse said she had to go, leaned in and kissed his cheek again.

“Good luck,” he breathed in her ear. “Try to stay alive. We’ll need you.”

She pulled back, looked at him, trying to keep her expression smooth, but he could see that there was sudden worry underneath. “This is bad, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes.” He met her eyes unflinchingly. “As bad as it gets.”

Soft lips tightened, and then she put on that bright smile again and walked away.

Rumlow didn’t know what was in those orders Fury had sent for her. But he was willing to bet that Fury wouldn’t have warned her about what she was really facing, not with the one-eyed bastard’s obsession with secrets. So he’d added a coded note of his own with some additional warnings. Nobody should be walking blind into the disaster that had to be getting closer by the day.

He nodded very slightly to Hartley on his way out of the park. Wondered if he’d ever see either woman again. He hoped so. As he’d said to Morse, SHIELD - or what was left of it when they’d rooted HYDRA out - would need them. Everything he’d found out in the last couple of days of investigation pointed to their being as loyal to SHIELD as it was possible to get.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rollins smiled tightly as an alert popped up on his phone. Rumlow was on his way back to the States, image recognition software had just picked him up going through a departure gate at Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris. Time to make his move. He was considering just how he’d do the job - up close and personal was unfortunately out, delightful thought that it was, because Rollins knew all too well that Rumlow would kick his ass in a one-on-one. Sniper rifle, perhaps. A shot to the heart. He was reaching for the case with his rifle in it when his phone started blaring.

“Fuck,” he snarled, looking at the screen. _STRIKE Team Alpha, report for mission briefing immediately. Departure imminent._

Well. Rumlow would keep. It was a long flight via commercial airliner, anyway. Rollins might even be back from mission by the time the double-crossing bastard landed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Commercial flights are hell,” Brock muttered to himself as he stepped off the plane back in DC. It was an 8-hour flight from Paris, and the time difference meant that it was fairly late in the evening. There was no one around to meet him, but that was as he expected.

From the airport, he caught a cab straight to a hotel in the suburbs. It wasn’t too far from the location of his meeting with Fury and Hill, which was scheduled for the next afternoon. Enough time for him to shower and get some rest, try to shake off some of the jet-lag.

He glanced at his phone, contemplating calling Skye for a quick good-night, but then thought better of it. He didn’t know where in the world the Bus was at this point, and he didn’t want to risk waking her. He did check his messages, though.

There was only one from Skye, sent earlier that day.

_I know you won’t get this for a while, but I had to share the news._ Even the message sounded chipper; she must have been exited. _I’ve been made an Agent! Officially and everything; I even have a badge._

Even though it was late, he couldn’t help sending her a reply. _I’m proud of you, sweetheart._

_Brock! You’re back! Sorry, that was kind of obvious. How are you?_

He smiled; her enthusiasm and energy always made him feel more energetic, himself.

_I’m wiped. Just got in, due for a shower and some sleep._

_No worries. Don’t let me keep you awake. The Boss is keeping me busy right now, but I should be reachable tomorrow._ It was more or less the response he expected. She would worry more about him than about herself. Though he could hardly complain, because he was the same way worrying about her.

_Take care of yourself, and be careful. I love you, Skye._ It never felt the same, telling her that over text. But he did it anyway, because he never knew when he would have another chance.

_I know. I love you too._

He made his way to the bathroom, shedding clothes on the way. A long, hot shower and a good night’s sleep. He’d feel better in the morning. And he’d need to be on top of his game for meeting Fury.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alexander Pierce was worried.

_Well, perhaps concerned was a better term_ , he thought. Rollins and his team had been sent off on a mission, and Pierce had just gotten word that Rumlow was back in DC.

Fury didn’t generally meet with agents this late at night, but Pierce had better make a move by morning. If Rumlow hadn’t blown everything yet they needed to stop him and fast.

He picked up his phone. “Mobilize the Asset. I want him tracking a target by dawn. I’ll send the details.” After receiving confirmation, he hung up again.

One less complication to disturb his evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock woke slowly. _God, jet lag’s a bitch without SHIELD meds to help avoid it,_ he thought, rolling out of bed and heading for the bathroom. Grinned ruefully to himself before grabbing his toothbrush and razor. Fury wanted to meet with him in a couple of hours; his text said something about debriefing Rogers, so STRIKE must have been on a mission. Well, Brock would find out what was going down shortly.

He was heading, on foot, to the same tiny hole-in-the-wall cafe that he’d met Fury in once before. Paused outside the door to glance up and down the street.

An instant later a sledgehammer hit him in the chest.

Except it wasn’t a sledgehammer, he realised, even as he was in the process of falling to the ground. It was a rifle bullet. And the only reason he was still alive was that he had on a special STRIKE undershirt with body armour built in - and that the bullet had hit on his phone in the breast pocket of his shirt, shattering it into a million pieces.

There was screaming all around him, and some brave soul grabbed his shoulders and dragged him inside the cafe and under a table. He hadn’t moved since falling, hoping that the shooter would assume he was dead. There was no second bullet, so with any luck the ruse had worked. He lay on the floor under the table, slowly coming to the realisation that everything was about to go utterly fucking sideways. And with his phone in bits, he couldn’t even warn Fury.

_Skye_ , was his next thought. _I need to warn Skye_. But he couldn’t even make a sound come out of his mouth, couldn’t get a breath. His chest was agony, he was pretty sure he’d got at least a few cracked ribs. “Skye,” was all he managed to whisper to the concerned faces clustered above him, looking down at him, before he blacked out.

He woke up in a hospital bed - but it wasn’t in a hospital. He turned his head to the side and saw a very familiar figure lying in another bed alongside him.

“Nick?” he croaked out, but Fury was asleep, or unconscious. Movement beyond him made Brock blink, trying to get his eyes to focus as a slender figure came into view.

“Rumlow,” Maria Hill said. “Glad to see you’ve finished your little nap.”

“Skye,” was the first word out of his mouth as he pushed himself to sit up, feeling at his chest. Still sore, but HYDRA’s enhancement meant he healed fast. He’d be all right.

Hill rolled her eyes at him. “She’s fine. Perfectly safe. We’ve got much, _much_ bigger things to worry about right now, Rumlow.”

He looked at Fury’s body. The Director didn’t look in good shape. “All right. You’d better fill me in on what’s been going on.”

“Well,” Hill perched her hip on the end of Fury’s hospital bed. “The _Lemurian Star_ turned out to be quite an interesting lead...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ultimately, Brock spent a day and a half in Hill and Fury’s little hide-away. It took that long for the cracked ribs to mostly heal and for him to be brought up to speed on everything that had happened in the meantime. He was annoyed about being unable to contact Skye or Coulson, but he’d managed to get Hill to promise to call and warn them about Ward.

Today he was tracking Agent Sitwell. Covertly, obviously; he wasn’t fool enough to set foot into the Triskelion after his abrupt leave from HYDRA. But using some of the SHIELD toys that Hill had so kindly provided, he was able to track Sitwell’s movements. Hill was fairly certain that Sitwell was HYDRA at this point, and after hearing her report on the _Lemurian Star_ he was pretty sure she was right.

Rumlow was surprised to discover that he wasn’t the only one covertly maneuvering around Sitwell, though. There were at least two others and, unless he missed his guess, one of them was Captain America.

Well. This could either get complicated or exciting. He wasn’t sure which he would prefer.

He made his way over to the roof of the building where he’d seen them. From what he could detect from inside, Sitwell was headed that way anyhow. Might as well go see what he could learn.

He’d made it to the roof just in time to see Romanoff kick Sitwell off of it. And then an unknown with a set of mechanical _wings_ dropped the agent back onto the edge.

“Hold up a second, guys. We’ve got more company,” the man said.

Knowing he’d been spotted, Brock didn’t try to hide. Instead he stepped out from cover and shot a grin at Rogers. “Hey, Cap. Keeping busy without me, I see,” he said in greeting.

“Rumlow,” Rogers said with a nod of greeting. “How’s that soulmate of yours?”

The question was a test, but one that Brock knew he could pass. Romanoff eyed him suspiciously, but that was standard procedure for her anyway. “Safe with her team,” he replied readily. “Hopefully a little safer once Hill gets a chance to chat with her team leader.”

With a nod, Rogers turned his attention back to Sitwell. “Let’s finish this,” he said. “Project Insight. Start talking.”

Rumlow let them do the talking; they clearly had more recent intel than he did. He just stood, silent and intimidating, while Sitwell spoke. When the Agent claimed to be in fear for his life for exposing the truth about the project, Rumlow knew he was right. Sitwell was a highly trained agent, but against the enhanced he didn’t stand a chance.

Within minutes, they had what they needed. “I got a motorbike downstairs,” Rumlow offered, “and a safe house a few miles away that won’t have been compromised, if you need somewhere to go.”

Rogers glanced at the winged dude, who shrugged. “Better than my place. I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Wilson.” He didn’t offer to shake hands, but then he was still hanging onto the back of Sitwell’s collar.

“Okay, you lead us there, Brock. We’ll follow you,” Steve decided, and they headed downstairs. Neither Rogers nor Romanoff seemed to have brought any means of securing Sitwell. Brock rolled his eyes and pulled out a cable tie to do the job, shoving Sitwell into the back of the SUV which apparently belonged to Wilson, as he scrambled into the driver’s seat. Romanoff sat in the back with Sitwell, gun in hand and trained on him, as Brock went to get his bike.

They had no comm units and he couldn’t use his phone while riding the bike, so he simply kept a steady pace and checked they were behind him occasionally. He just happened to be glancing in one of his mirrors when a huge guy all in black with a freaking _metal arm_ landed on the roof of the SUV and ripped Sitwell out, flinging him under a truck passing by in the opposite direction.

“Holy fucking shit!” he narrowly avoided being crushed into the concrete dividing wall by a careering sedan, had to keep both hands on the bike to keep it upright. By the time he’d managed to screech to a stop, Wilson’s SUV had crashed and the three survivors were out, Rogers and Romanoff sliding on the shield, Wilson tumbling along the road.

Brock laid rubber spinning the bike around and going back, laying it down hard by Wilson and grabbing his shoulders. “You okay, man?” he could see Rogers and Romanoff moving, they’d be all right, but Wilson had landed hard. “Wilson!”

“Urgh,” Sam groaned, shaking his head.

“Come on, get with it, we’re gonna need air support, where’s your damn wings? Oh, fuck!” as the man in black came up with a grenade launcher. An instant later Rogers’s  shield was hit by the explosion and he went flying, over the concrete barrier and off the bridge. He’d had time to shove Romanoff away and she came racing towards Brock and Sam, panic in her eyes, but her gun drawn and ready as she dived for cover behind a car.

Brock pulled his own handgun from the small of his back, cursing quietly under his breath that he only had the one. If they’d only been able to get to his safehouse, he’d have been armed enough to deal with all these bastards. As it was, he had only the Glock Hill had grudgingly spared him and a knife in his boot. Not even his shocksticks; he mourned their absence even as he nodded acknowledgement to Romanoff’s hand signals. A moment later, the metal-armed guy fired another grenade and they all raced for cover.

Romanoff took off, heading over the side of the bridge. Brock didn’t worry about her; he’d seen the grapple tool on her belt.

“Where’s the wings?” he hissed at Sam, who’d taken refuge behind the same crashed car as him. The metal-armed guy didn’t seem to be bothered about them, stalking to the edge of the bridge to look down. Obviously they weren’t on his target list.

“In the trunk,” Sam gestured at the crashed SUV.

“Well, fucking get them out. We’re going to need air support. I’ll go back up Cap and the Widow.” Sam appeared to be unarmed, so Brock pulled the knife from his boot and handed it over. “All I got, man.”

“I’ll make do,” Sam said with a vicious grin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dun da dun dun! Back-up is on the way!**
> 
>  


	11. Someone Else To Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock fights for the good guys, but can't stick around afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter takes place during Season 1, episodes 17-18 and during Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Some scenes mirror the originals, some deliberately contain changes, and some are highly abbreviated just to give you a frame of reference._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/CrossFalcon_zpsho9rem2q.jpg.html)

Rumlow followed Cap and Widow off the side of the bridge while Wilson grabbed the sniper rifle and helped with cover. Rumlow snatched up a couple of guns from the fallen men, then trailed after Cap and the mysterious masked man.

When Cap took off running to distract the man from shooting Romanoff again, Rumlow ducked around the car to end up beside Natasha. He quickly made a pad from a piece of his shirt and secured it beneath her jacket, then picked up his guns to follow Cap. And stood astonished for a moment; it was almost impossible to keep up with the give and take of the fight; whoever the man with the metal arm was, he was _definitely_ enhanced. Which spelled HYDRA.

He was glad he’d sent Wilson for his wings when Sam’s timely entrance gained Cap a moment to recover. But then something changed.

“Shit,” Brock muttered when Cap just stood there staring at the unmasked man for a long moment. Brock started to shoot at the same instant Romanoff showed up with a gun she’d retrieved from somewhere and damn near blew up a car. In the billowing smoke, they saw that the man had vanished.

But only seconds later, they were surrounded by STRIKE teams. Including Rollins.

“Sonuva…” He cursed quietly as the four of them were taken into custody; only the news helicopter flying overhead prevented them from being shot out of hand, though he was pretty sure Rollins was tempted to just blow his head off on the spot anyway.

“How’s it feel now, you traitorous son of a bitch?” Rollins growled into Rumlow’s ear as he hauled them into a van. “How do you like being the one left behind? Always off to shag your pretty-girl, abandoning your purpose for a pair of dark eyes?”

“You leave her out of this, you bastard. If you have a problem with me…” Rumlow spat back, but was interrupted.

“Oh, no, my problem was definitely her. If not for her, you would’ve been here with us instead of on your knees.” Rollins was pissed, ranting. “You shouldn’t have switched sides, Rumlow. You’d have come to your senses if Quinn had managed to do his job properly and just fucking kill her.”

Brock saw red and began to struggle; if Rollins wanted a fight, he’d damn well get one! But one of the other men punched Romanoff in her bleeding shoulder, and he froze. He knew he’d have to wait. But damn it, his turn would come and Rollins would _pay._

Of the four of them, Rumlow was the only one not terribly surprised to see Hill come to their rescue.

Seeing Fury awake and talking, however, was almost as much of a shock for him as it was for Rogers and Romanoff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rumlow ran for the Helicarriers with Wilson and Rogers. They each had a chip and a targeted carrier. It was a tough fight; HYDRA’s numbers were immense, especially on the Insight project. Hill was coordinating the three of them, along with Romanoff.

Brock was the first one to reach his target; he put it down to Cap being the far more obvious target on foot and Wilson drawing most of the fire in the air. “Target alpha, locked,” he reported. And then he found out just what was holding up Cap.

The Winter Soldier had found them.

“Target beta, locked,” Wilson said over the comms a few minutes later. Sam went to try to help Cap, but the Soldier busted up his wings and left him grounded. A quick-release chute was the only thing getting him there on his feet.

Rumlow made his way to the carrier deck, hoping to find a way to get across to help Cap since it seemed like he’d need it. But he had to fight his way there. A short time later, he heard Hill call out that Rollins was headed up to the council room and Wilson intercepted.

“This is for Rumlow, you bastard,” Brock heard Wilson say a short time later. “And his soulmate.”

Brock couldn’t help but chuckle. But he didn’t want to distract anyone, so he held his peace.

Shortly thereafter, he heard Maria counting down and then at the last minute he heard Cap confirm that the third chip was locked. _Thank God,_ he thought. _Now we just have to get the Hell out of here._

A moment later, the guns began to fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He must have lost consciousness for a moment when he hit the water, but his lungs seized when he tried to breathe in a mouthful and Brock’s eyes snapped open. Instinctively he started to tread water, pushing himself up towards the light.

“Oh, fuck,” he choked out as he saw the helicarrier he’d just fallen off, toppling towards him, on fire. And started to swim frantically, his chest still aching but his arms cutting cleanly through the water, towards the riverbank.

The comm had come out of his ear, so he had no idea what was going on, could only sit on the muddy riverbank trying to get his breath back and watch the destruction, the fiery rain of shattered metal falling from the skies. And then, falling in among all that metal, he saw a figure in blue.

“Shit, Cap!” he was on his feet in a moment, preparing to go back into the river - but there was a hell of a lot of floating debris in between him and where Steve had fallen. He took a moment to eye it dubiously, looking for a way through - and saw something else moving.

“Oh, shit,” Brock breathed, watching disbelievingly as the Winter Soldier swam through the disaster zone. He was going to finish the job, the bastard was going to kill Steve, and there was no fucking way Brock could get there in time. He could only watch - and stare in disbelief as the Soldier towed Steve to the riverbank and stood over him for a moment before walking away.

Of course, it was on the opposite side of the fucking river. Wearily, Brock pushed himself to his feet and waded back into the water. The worst of the wreckage had sunk, but it was still a tough swim, and more than once he caught himself on jagged shards of metal. He was bleeding from cuts to his face and arms by the time he got to Steve. Who was breathing, thank God. The sound of helicopter blades made him look up warily, hands twitching towards weapons that had long since run dry of bullets.

Fortunately, the first figure to appear from the helicopter was Falcon. Brock relaxed marginally when Wilson arrived beside them, gear from a rappelling line still attached to his harness.

“Rumlow?” Sam asked.

“Worse for the wear, but I’ll live. Check Cap,” he replied, his voice tired.

Wilson did so and shook his head. “We’d better get you both to a hospital.”

Brock shook his head. “Not safe. For either of us, probably.”

“You don’t really think they’re gonna chase us into a public hospital, do you?” Wilson’s voice was filled with disbelief. “I’ll get them to put you in the same room and stay with you myself, how’s that?”

“Fine, whatever,” Brock grumbled. With an effort of will, he pulled himself to his feet. Helped Wilson haul Cap up, and the three of them made their way to the helicopter that had just touched down. More hands came to help with the burden, and Brock willingly stepped back and out of the way to let Wilson and Romanoff handle Cap.

He brushed away hands that reached to help him into the ‘copter, though. He made it there on his own and dropped into a seat with a sigh of relief. It didn’t take long for them to land on the roof of the George Washington University Hospital. EMTs came to unload the injured.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day after the battle at the Hub and the Triskellion, Skye sat with Coulson watching - and recording - various news programs. She took a moment to marvel at how many people were crazy enough to try to get pictures and video of the falling helicarriers. Then she set to work using the equipment at the Hub to enhance some of the clearer footage on another screen.

_“_ Oh _, shit_ ,” she muttered to herself when she realized that some of the “debris” falling from the helicarriers were people. Quite probably a lot of them were HYDRA, but it was unlikely they all were. So she set about trying to identify them. Most were too fuzzy to ID, between the motion and the resolution on the cameras. But she managed to get names of a few to Coulson.

And then she stopped, staring frozen at the screen. “No,” she whispered. “Oh, no. No.”

“Skye?” Coulson asked quietly, moving to stand beside her. He looked down at the screen and saw the image: Rumlow falling out of a Helicarrier as it crashed. When she didn’t respond, he tugged her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.

“No. He can’t be dead. He promised he’d be careful.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, on the verge of breaking.

“I’m sure he was,” he said gently. He quietly led her into a side office, away from the curious looks of other Agents. “He must’ve been the fourth person in the earlier footage, fighting with Cap,” Coulson suggested. “He was trying to fight the good fight.”

Skye was on her feet, dragging her shirt up from her waistband, turning around. Panting for breath, panicking. “I didn’t feel it! I thought - I thought I would feel it, if anything happened to him - is my mark fading, Phil? Please, you have to look…”

“Skye,” his hands were gentle as he pulled her shirt back down. “It takes time for soulmarks to fade. It’s said that the deeper the love between soulmates, the longer it will take. I know you loved him. And - you were still never sure if he was your soulmate or not…”

The tears were flowing freely as she turned back around to face him. “He was. Oh God, Phil, he _was_ , and I never told him that I was sure…”

“Sshh,” his arms went around her, drawing her into a gentle embrace; she laid her head on his shoulder and let the tears flow.

Skye clung onto Coulson for a long moment. And then the phone in his pocket chirped. He sighed, not letting her go until she lifted her head. “You’d better get that. It might be important.”

Phil tightened the hug for a moment. “Skye. You’re important too.”

She dashed the tears from her cheeks as he let her go. “Take the call, AC. Maybe we can save other people from having to find out that their loved ones have died because of these HYDRA bastards.” Her voice was filled with venom. “We’re going to _destroy_ them. _All_ of them.”

He nodded, not trying to patronise her. He could see the grief written in every line of her body as she sank heavily back down in her chair and reached to replay the footage again. Reaching over her shoulder, he pressed the DELETE key firmly. “Don’t do that to yourself, Skye. It won’t help.” Only then did he answer his phone.

Less than an hour later, they were evacuating the Hub, back on the Bus again, unsure of where they should go. Skye was glad for the activity, for Coulson’s orders to delete the identity of every member of the team. It kept her busy. She called Ward to let him know what she’d done, and on a whim went in and deleted all records of Brock having worked for SHIELD, too. Everything that had just been dumped to the Internet. She cleaned it all off, leaving him only as a retired Navy SEAL. At least that way, if his body was recovered and identified, he’d get a proper military funeral instead of a traitor’s grave.

Tears dripped onto her keyboard and she wiped them away and kept working. She might not have been able to save Brock, but damned if she wouldn’t avenge him. Somehow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye breathed a sigh frustration as she researched the inmates of the Fridge for Coulson. Finding the Providence base had been a rather strange event; the news that the Fridge had fallen was even worse. For a moment, Skye was concerned; Ian Quinn had been sent to the Fridge. But there was a lot of other ridiculously dangerous stuff there, too, and more people to be worried about than herself so she tried not to dwell.

She was perfectly safe in the base.

She’d called Ward earlier. Even though he’d been creeping her out, she was relieved to hear that he was alive. She thought back over their conversation.

“Ward? Oh, thank God,” she’d said. “We heard there was trouble at the Fridge. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Made it out after a fight.”

“That’s rough. Look, we’ve been sent to a secret base. I can send you the coordinates so you can join up with the team again.”

“It’s good to have a safe place. I’ll be there as soon as I can. See you soon.”

Skye had a bad feeling, but she wasn’t sure what was causing it. It could be Ward, or it could just be that everything was in chaos since HYDRA revealed itself. Ward had arrived, so the team was back together, plus Agent Triplett.

It suddenly occurred to her that she should hack the NSA satellites to try to run facial recognition on the inmates. But she might need to borrow Agent Koenig’s computers for more data processing power. Coulson thought he should be amenable, but she’d keep working from her laptop in the meantime.

The orientation lie-detector test was a pain in the ass. But Koenig didn’t ask about her soulmark, so she figured it could have been worse. She sent Ward in after her. Coulson was getting part of the team ready to leave, and everything was going crazy.

Everything was falling apart. Brock was dead. Ward was seriously injured. The psychopaths in the Fridge were on the loose. Coulson and May were at odds with each other.

And Skye didn’t know what to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the second time in a couple of days, Brock woke up in a hospital bed. From the looks of the room, though, this one was in an actual hospital. Though he didn’t think hospital radios usually played Marvin Gaye. Turning his head, he saw Cap lying in the bed beside him, Wilson sitting on his other side with a book in his hands.

“How long have I been out?” Brock croaked rustily.

Wilson looked up, blinked. “Not nearly as much time as I’d have thought. You were pretty banged up.”

Brock pushed himself to sit up with a grunt. “I have to go.”

“Whoah, whoah, tough guy!” Wilson scrambled to his feet and came rushing over, trying to push him to lie down again. “You took a hell of a beating. The fall into the river alone should have killed you, from that height. Never mind that apparently you were already injured.” His hand hovered over Brock’s chest, where the bruise from where he’d been shot was rapidly fading from solid black to purplish-green.

“Yeah,” Brock glanced across at Cap. “I’m nearly as tough as he is. Talking of which, how bad is he?”

Wilson grimaced, stepping back. “He woke up a few minutes ago. Talked to me briefly before passing out again. He fought Barnes on that last helicarrier. They beat each other up pretty good. Stitches, gunshot wounds, you know.”

“Barnes was the one who pulled him out of the water. I thought he was going to kill him. But Rogers has to be right - he has to have remembered something.”

They were both silent for a moment, looking at the sleeping man in the other bed.

“He’ll want to go after him,” Sam said quietly.

“He’ll need backup.”

“Not you? Steve said the two of you worked pretty well together, made a strong team.” Two pairs of dark eyes met, and then Rumlow shook his head.

“I’ve got someone else to find. My soulmate.”

“Huh,” Wilson’s eyes widened slightly, and then he nodded. “I can see how that might take precedence for you. Where is she?”

“I don’t know. I need a phone.”

Sam slipped one from his back pocket. “Romanoff gave it to me half an hour ago. It’s brand new. Clean.”

Brock nodded his thanks and started dialling. A few minutes later he put the phone down on the bed, pressed his hands to his eyes. “There’s no answer. Any of the numbers. They’re all disconnected.”

“If they were SHIELD, they would be,” Sam said quietly. “SHIELD’s been declared a terrorist organisation. Most agents have either surrendered to the government or gone off-grid.”

Brock had to make himself take slow, deep breaths. “I’ll need to speak to Hill. Or Fury.”

Sam held a finger to his lips. “Don’t mention Captain Hook, all right? He’s dead.”

Brock rolled his eyes. “More fucking secrets. All right. Hill, then. I don’t doubt Coulson is talking to her.”

“You said that name again,” Steve muttered, snapping both of the others around to look at him again. “Why do you keep talking about a dead man?”

Brock and Sam exchanged looks, Sam’s curious, Brock’s wary.

“Go back to sleep, Rogers,” Brock said finally. He was fighting sleep himself, turned his head to see that Sam had just sneakily adjusted something on his IV.

“You too,” Sam said quietly. “I’ll find Hill. You can start looking for your soulmate later. Right now you’ve no place to start, and even super-soldiers need time to recover from the damage you’ve taken.”

He wanted to fight it, but his eyes slid inexorably closed. “ _Skye_ ,” her name passed his lips on a slow exhalation of breath, like a prayer, before the world slid away from him again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Listen to Sam for once, Brock. Skye won’t appreciate it if you injure yourself further…**
> 
> **And just a quick note, though Brock asked Hill to warn Coulson about Ward, in all the panic of Fury’s near-death and dealing with Project Insight, she wasn’t able to. So no, Coulson’s team still have no idea that Ward is HYDRA.**
> 
>  


	12. Frustrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward comes to Providence. Brock searches for Skye.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumlow%207_zpswvzgl8ku.jpg.html)

Skye hadn’t really thought she’d be relieved to see Ward. But he _was_ one of the team, and she _had_ been worried about him when Eric Koenig told them that the Fridge had fallen. Hearing that he was alive was a relief. Seeing him walk into Providence, bloodied and bruised, though, all she could think was that the wrong man had died. Brock had died and Ward had lived, and she wished so badly that the reverse was true.

Guilty for feeling that way, she fussed over Ward, insisting Simmons treat his wounds. His eyes met hers a few times, and she found herself flushing and looking away, remembering that weird moment they’d shared in the Hub.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“Remember in that bar in Dublin, you offered to talk?”_

She _had_ offered that. And that was what she’d meant, to _talk_ , not to have sex with him. She nodded, slowly.

“I wish I’d taken you up on that.” He stared at her for a long moment. “I might well die out there, Skye,” he said quietly. “To keep you safe. I’ve killed to keep you safe. I’m willing to die for it, too.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. _I didn’t ask you to? I don’t want you to?_ She shook her head instead. “Don’t do this for me. Do it because you need to. Because _Coulson_ needs us to. But try not to die.”

She was startled when he leaned in and kissed her. But because he really might be going out there to die, she didn’t slap his face, as was her first instinct. She just shook her head at him. “You know I love Brock, Ward. Please don’t.”

“If he wasn’t around, would you have chosen me?”

It was an unanswerable question, and he knew it. So he only touched her cheek gently, grabbed her ICER and flung open the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the others gone, Ward was following her round the base like a damn puppy. She sought Eric’s company in desperation, but then remembered her bright idea of hacking the NSA satellites to check out what had happened at the Fridge. She was checking out the results - nothing but an empty rooftop - when Ward turned up to aggravate her again.

“Skye. I just heard - May just told me about Rumlow. I’m so sorry.”

She found herself clenching her teeth, consciously relaxed her jaw. “You didn’t like him much.”

“I didn’t think he deserved you, that’s true. But his death has hurt you, and for that I’m truly sorry.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I wish you’d let me take care of you now, Skye.”

She took a deep breath. _Do not punch him in the face. He’s part of the team. Do not punch him in the face, Skye._

“We all have to look out for each other now.” Turning to look at him fully, she spotted a trickle of blood at his temple. “Ward, you’re bleeding!”

He flinched back. “Ah - must be one of my cuts. Must have re-opened!” He almost bolted, leaving her alone. Skye sighed and picked up Eric’s tablet, looking for his lanyard indicator.

“There you are,” she murmured.

She followed the hallways as indicated on the tablet, looking for Eric. When she saw him, dead and bloodied, it finally clicked. The bad feelings, the creep factor. _Ward was HYDRA._

Skye panicked.

Not for long, just a few minutes. But she was seriously freaked out. She saw Ward on the map and hurried out of the storage closet, ducking into a nearby bathroom instead.

Then she heard Ward, in the hallway calling her name. Taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down before she went back out. She searched around for a way to leave a message, in case she didn’t survive either.

But she didn’t really think Ward was going to try to kill her. So she pulled herself together and went out to meet him.

“Hey,” she said, trying her best to smile as she saw him at the door of the closet. “Think I’d be hiding in a closet?” she asked, trying for flippant. And he seemed to buy it.

“Why did you leave?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“Truth?” she asked slowly.

“I’d appreciate it.” Trust Ward to mimic her mannerisms to tease her.

“You scared me,” she said quietly, watching him. He frowned a little, his eyes darkening. “You’re not usually one for emotion, Robot. But the sympathy, the opening up a bit. It’s strange.” She looked down and bit her lip for a moment. “It’s all so much, you know. Especially with that kiss, back at the Hub… which, I have to admit, was a rather nice kiss...”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he told her gently.

“I know. And I’m not generally one to over-analyze. You know. I tend to act impulsively and freak out about it after the fact.” She looked up at him, gazing through her lashes. Part of her hated herself for this, felt like it was too soon after Brock’s death to be flirting with anyone, let alone Ward.

But she knew Brock, if he was watching her from somewhere, would forgive her if playing along with Ward would keep her safe for longer.

“And are you still?” Ward asked, stepping a little closer to her. She shook her head slowly and moved closer. She lifted her face to his and let him close the distance, kissing her gently.

She pulled back after a moment. “I’m good. Still getting over... everything. But I’ve lost a lot in my life. I’ll get through this too.” She saw him nod and smiled just a little. “And you? What do you want?” she asked him.

“I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy, Skye. I want to stay here with you and we can pretend the outside world doesn’t exist.” If not for everything she knew about Ward, that would almost be touching. But reality was a bitch.

Ward went on to tell her that Fitz had called and the team needed their help. Somehow she doubted it, but she played along anyway. She let him take her hand as he led her to the Bus, knowing that she didn’t have a choice. Not really. She had to find out what Ward was up to. What his game was. With Brock gone, the only thing she had left was her team. Her _family_. Coulson would want her to do this. So she held her chin high and smiled lovingly at Ward every time he looked at her, even though her stomach churned with fear and rage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock clenched his teeth with frustration. Coulson and his team were completely off the grid. Hill might have had a lead on them, but she’d taken off a couple of days ago and dropped out of touch, and he had no idea where to start looking. He was reduced to tagging along after Cap, hoping that Coulson, Hill or Fury would show back up sooner rather than later so he could start demanding some damned answers.

Finally, they got a message from Fury to meet at his fake grave. He listened in silence as Fury talked with Cap; as his former boss told Steve that he was going to Europe, asked Steve to go with. They all knew what the answer would be even before Cap shook his head.

Brock’s eyes met Wilson’s, and the other man nodded, acknowledging the silent request. Because Cap really did need someone to watch his back.

“I’ll go with you,” Brock said to Fury, stepping forward. “For now.”

“Thank you, Rumlow,” Steve said, offering a hand to shake. “This would all have been a whole lot harder without your help.”

He nodded slightly, accepted the hand. “Thanks, but I don’t doubt you’d have managed it anyway.” He shook Wilson’s hand too, and Romanoff’s, before following Fury away across the cemetery’s manicured grass.

“Where the fuck have you been?” was the first thing he said once they were in Fury’s SUV, away from listening ears. “I’ve been going fucking mad, here, trying to contact Coulson’s team…”

“You’re not on your own there,” Fury grunted, starting the car. “Let me fill you in. They cut themselves off from contact to avoid being tracked, obviously, and went to a secret hideout I called Providence Base…”

Ten minutes later Brock was staring dumbfounded. “So where the fuck are they now?” was all he managed. _Skye. Ward kidnapped Skye, but Coulson somehow got her back again..._

“I’m not sure. Hill left them in LA not long ago, but they were just about to move on again, from what she knew. She told me to pass on the message that Skye is fine.”

“No thanks to Hill, how the fuck did Ward get close enough to take Skye? I asked Hill to let Coulson know that he was HYDRA…”

Fury shrugged a bit uncomfortably. “I think she tried but they’d already cut all contact by the time she managed it. We were a little bit fucking busy with bringing down Project Insight at the time, if you’ll recall!”

“Ugh,” Brock scowled. “So - what now? Are you headed for Europe immediately?”

Fury shook his head. “No. I need to see Coulson first. I’m appointing him Director.”

“Well, that’s a thankless fucking job, considering what’s left of SHIELD!”

Even through dark glasses, he could feel the heat of Fury’s stare. “Where Coulson is, that’s where Skye will be. Are you coming with, or not?”

“Lead on, MacDuff,” Brock said sarcastically.

They went first to some fancy base called the Playground, started using the clever toys there to look for any trace of the Bus or the small jump jet Coulson’s team were in possession of. Finally, they picked up a signal underwater, off the Florida Keys. It wasn’t a signal anyone in the Communications group recognised, but it _was_ a SHIELD frequency, so Fury decided they’d go check it out. Brock offered to fly the chopper. He had the feeling that if he lost sight of Fury, he’d disappear just as thoroughly as Coulson had, and Brock’s chances of finding Skye would be greatly decreased.

Brock held the chopper steady above the surface of the ocean; the signal was apparently coming from directly below them. Suddenly there was a disturbance beneath the waves and a figure surfaced, towing a second along behind. The first figure flailed, clearly gasping for breath and waving a hand for help. Lucky for them that help was so near to hand. He looked back and saw Fury opening the door, watched him step out and reach down.

Fury pulled two people into the chopper before closing the door. “Head back to the mainland,” he instructed as soon as he had a headset back on. “They need medical attention immediately.”

“Will do,” Rumlow acknowledged. Fortunately, while they were quite a long distance from the shore it was a short flight. Fury had a med team meet them at the jet; though not as nice as the Bus, it none-the-less held more people more comfortably than the chopper would.

Brock sat with Fury near Jemma’s decompression unit, letting someone else fly the plane. Fitz was still in with the doctors, but they thought Jemma could wake up shortly. He figured she’d need a friendly face.

Fury made contact first, and Brock let him ask his questions. Once the Director had what he needed to locate Coulson, Brock stepped over to the pod. “Hey, Simmons,” he greeted her with a friendly smile.

“Brock! You’re alive!” Jemma’s eyes lit up when she recognized him. “Oh, my God! You’re alive!”

Brock frowned. “Of course I’m alive. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Skye... she was _devastated_ ,” Jemma told him quietly. “She and Coulson watched the news footage of the Helicarriers’ destruction. Thinking that some of the people who died there could be SHIELD rather than HYDRA, she tried to identify the people she could get images of, falling out among the debris.” She paused, then pushed herself on. “One of them was you.”

“Oh, God. You mean Skye thought I was dead all this time?” Brock’s voice was steady, if a little husky, but his eyes were anguished.

“When she couldn’t get a hold of you, she thought you were still on your mission. But after that…” Jemma shrugged. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you. But she’ll be so _thrilled_ to see you.”

“Can’t happen soon enough!” His response was immediate and emphatic. “I can’t even imagine. My poor Skye.”

“You’ll get to her soon,” Jemma said soothingly.

“I’m sorry, Jemma. I’m sorry Ward hurt you and Fitz. I asked Hill to get word to Coulson _days_ ago that he was HYDRA, and only found out after everything happened that she never managed to get a message through.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “You had no way to know. And Skye did leave us a message when she figured it out. Things just... went badly for us for a while.”

“I’ll say it did,” Brock answered with a frown. “We’ll have to see if we can fix that, hmm?”

Jemma smiled. “I’d like that. Though I think you’ll see Skye before I do; it will take a while for decompression to finish.”

“I know. Fury mentioned dropping you and Fitz off somewhere safe to recover while we go find Coulson and the rest of your team.” Rumlow rested a hand on the side of the chamber and smiled a little when she rested hers against her side briefly.

“Well, you tell Skye when you see her that I’m alright. Well, you know, after she gets done being shocked that you’re still alive.” Jemma’s eyes twinkled at the very thought.

“I promise,” he said, his expression sincere. “It’ll be nice to be able to bring good news, for a change.”

“Has it been terribly difficult for you?”

“More than I can tell you right now, Simmons,” he said wryly. “But it hasn’t been fun.”

“At least it should get better now. You’ll be back with Skye again.”

“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to that,” he said emphatically. She only smiled in response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They landed at the Playground again, transferred Fitz and Simmons to the care of the medical unit there, and fuelled up the jet. Simmons had told them about some Howling Commandos relic Antoine Triplett had given Fitz and they’d left on the Bus; Fury traced the signal to a base in New Mexico owned by Cybertek. Ward had the Bus; Coulson would go after it, both Brock and Fury were sure. They loaded up with weapons and headed for Albuquerque.

Brock eyed the monster gun Fury loaded on the jet a bit dubiously. “Isn’t that a bit overkill?”

“We don’t know how many of these Centipede soldiers Cybertek have made,” Fury shrugged. “I like to be prepared for any eventuality.”

Brock shook his head, grinning. Fingered the shocksticks hanging from his weapon harness. “Each to their own, sir. I’m quite happy to kick ass and take names with these.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **And yes, in the next chapter Brock and Skye will FINALLY be reunited!**
> 
>  


	13. Not Yours To Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Skye are finally reunited. Ward does his best to sabotage the reunion, though...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter take place during Season 1, episode 22, and may contain portions of dialogue from the episode._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/RumSkye%207_zpsfpgobsei.jpg.html)

The facility was already looking somewhat the worse for wear by the time they arrived, smoke billowing and screams sounding from inside.

“Go,” Fury gestured at a massive hole in the wall, and Brock headed through, gun in one hand, shockstick in the other.

He found Skye quickly, and stopped dead, staring at her in awe as she stood tall in the face of the gun Ward had pointed at her face.

“I hope Garrett orders you to walk into traffic,” she spat defiantly.

Brock grinned to himself. God, how he loved her; her fierceness and her rage only made her more beautiful in his eyes.

Apparently in Ward’s too, though. Because the bastard was saying “You woke up a weakness inside me. And for the first time in a while, I wanted something for myself. Maybe I’ll just take what I want - wake up something inside of you.”

A red mist descended in front of Brock’s eyes, and he strode forward, his gun coming up to point between Ward’s eyes. “She’s not yours to take, you thieving piece of _shit_.”

His respect for the younger man actually ratcheted up a notch when Ward never wavered, his gun still pointed at Skye. The expression on his face told a different story, though, clear frustration and rage that Rumlow was still alive.

“Brock,” Skye breathed, and he took his eyes off Ward for a second to glance across and smile at her. She was staring at him as though she’d seen a ghost.

“Hello, love. Rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated, I fear.”

“But I saw you fall!”

He shrugged, knowing he’d have to come clean about his enhancements later. “I got lucky.”

Ward laughed harshly. “Lucky, my ass. He hasn’t told you the whole truth, has he, Skye? Your precious Rumlow is just as much HYDRA as Garrett and I. Or he was. He turned and sold them out, all for love of you.”

Skye stared at Brock for a long moment. He looked back unflinchingly, head held high, meeting her eyes. And at last, Skye looked back at Ward.

“Well. At least I know that he actually does love me then, don’t I Grant? Because you claim you love me too, but you still kidnapped me and murdered my friends on that psychopath’s orders.”

Ward didn’t even flinch. “Put the gun down, Rumlow,” he said coldly. “Or I’ll shoot her.”

Brock knew the tone. He bent, set the gun at his feet and kicked it carefully away. He couldn’t risk it. He knew what would be coming next, though, prepared to fling himself down. Because Ward would try and shoot him. It was the logical next move - but Skye was talking again.

“You won’t shoot me; I’ve got the bomb,” Skye said, and Brock’s eyes flew to her, widening. _She what?_ She cast him an apologetic glance. “I thought you were dead,” she said, her tone pained.

“You won’t use that bomb,” Ward said confidently. “You’d die too, and him. You won’t do that. Not now you know he’s alive.”

“Maybe not,” Skye said, and a small smirk appeared on her lips. “I have a weapon much better than a bomb.”

“What, _him_?” Ward sneered at Rumlow.

“Oh no. Someone else. You see, you slept with her. And she’s _really_ pissed off.”

Rumlow’s eyes widened as May exploded out of the shadows and into action, kicking the gun from Ward’s hand. But good though she was, she wouldn’t be a match for Ward’s enhancements in the end. He was going to have to step in.

While May attacked Ward, Skye ran to Brock. She threw herself into his arms and kissed him, pleased when his arms came up to hold her tightly. “I’m glad you’re alive.” She grinned at him, though her eyes told him they needed to talk later. “You have no idea how glad. But we’ve still got work to do.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He let her go, touching her cheek gently. “Ward’s enhanced. I’ll give him what he deserves, don’t you worry; you and May go do whatever you need to get done.” She nodded, moving back to the man in the chair with the bomb strapped to his chest. He could tell that she had questions, but now wasn’t the time or place.

“Let’s talk about _incentives,_ ” she said to the man, her expression serious. She put a hand on his shoulder and tugged him out of the chair.

Rumlow took off, chasing Ward and May. When he arrived, May was taking a beating. Ward had her pinned down on a saw-table, the unit on and running. He could see that she was trying to break away, but Ward’s enhanced strength held her trapped.

Grabbing his shock sticks, he swung them hard at Ward, knocking the man backwards off the table to land on the floor. “I’ve got this, May. He’s HYDRA enhanced,” he said as he followed Ward, kicking him into the wall.

May rolled off the table, landing on the floor and visually assessing the two men fighting in front of her. As much as she hated to admit it, she was over-matched against Ward. But clearly Rumlow wasn’t. She watched for a moment as Rumlow pinned Ward and then moved in to strike over Brock’s shoulder, throat-punching Ward. She smiled in satisfaction when the HYDRA agent choked, struggling with what she guessed was a fractured larynx. He wouldn’t be poisoning anyone’s ears with HYDRA talk for a while.

“Fine,” she told Rumlow after that last hit. “I’ll go back to Skye.”

“Thanks,” Brock grunted, his attention on Ward as the other man recovered and managed to twist free. Rumlow followed, trading blows. Enjoying the opportunity to kick the shit out of the man who’d tried to steal his soulmate. He made sure that he got in at least one solid boot to Ward’s groin.

May caught up with Skye just in time to knock out the guard standing outside a door who was giving them trouble about letting them into the Incentives area. Skye quickly rifled through the guard’s pockets for the keys and found them. She opened the first door and the man with her ran inside to kiss a woman there, apologizing the whole time. She let him be, May standing guard in the hall as Skye continued to unlock and open other doors.

The man - Kyle, apparently - and his wife? Whatever, they followed Skye into the hall. “What are you looking for?” he asked Skye, glancing at May with a nervous expression.

She answered as she opened the next door and found Ace Peterson. “Our Ace in the hole,” she said as she ducked into the room. She hugged the boy gently, then went back to Kyle. Opened the backpack strapped to him and pulled out a Hulk toy, rolling her eyes at the fear and then relief in Kyle’s expression when he realized she might have tricked them all. Skye tossed the keys to May, knowing they needed to release any other hostages held there.

Back in the room, Skye took the toy to Ace. “Okay, Ace,” she told him gently. “I need you to give me a message for your father, okay? Something your father would know could only come from you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once she’d heard from Phil that everything was all right, that Mike had helped him, Skye ran back to where she’d left Brock. She found him standing guard over a battered, bruised and heavily restrained Ward.

Staring at Brock, Skye felt so filled with emotion that she didn’t quite know how to deal with it. She resorted to flippancy instead.

“You always give me the nicest presents, Brock,” she gestured at the semi-conscious man on the floor.

Brock turned, grinning. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Wasn’t quite the gift I intended, but unfortunately I lost the original one when I took a dive into the Potomac.”

Skye’s mouth had dropped open. “What?” she said dumbly.

“It’s April ninth. Your birthday.” Ward twitched, and Brock leant over and casually applied a shockstick behind his ear until the other man fell unconscious. “Happy birthday, my love.”

“I didn’t - I didn’t even realise!”

Brock sheathed one shockstick and held out his arm, and Skye went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding on tightly, breathing in his scent, warm and male, so comfortingly familiar.

“You’re alive,” she whispered, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks, and he bent his head to kiss her brow.

“I’m alive. I’ll always come back to you, Skye. No matter what.”

Phil came in at that moment, Nick Fury behind him. Skye’s eyes widened, and she looked up at Brock.

“I’m sure there’s a joke here somewhere about three dead men walking into a bar.”

It was May who started to laugh first, but soon they were all joining in, leaning on each other and cackling hysterically. Trip, walking in, shook his head at them all. “Damn, you guys! What would you like me to do with the six extremely senior military personnel who I just found locked up in a basement?”

“Oh,” it was Phil who sobered first. “Well. I guess I’d better go talk to them. I daresay SHIELD could use a little goodwill with the top brass.”

“We’d better start searching the place,” May said to Trip. “They had the Berserker Staff down in Havana; who knows what else they stole from the Fridge?”

“He will,” Skye pointed down at Ward. “Since he and Garrett are the ones who took it over.”

“That is a very good point,” Fury rumbled. “Want to wake him up and ask him, Rumlow?”

“My pleasure, sir,” Brock grinned. He hesitated, looking at Skye. “You might not want to watch, sweetheart…”

She folded her arms and stared at him. “On the contrary. I want very much to watch you make him suffer.”

“Skye,” May put an arm around her, “you really don’t. Come on. I let everyone out in the Incentives area, but we should go make sure they’re all matched up with their significant others.”

When Skye heard the first agonised screams coming from behind them, she flinched, realising May was right. She wasn’t yet hardened enough to face seeing someone tortured for information. Especially not someone who she’d once thought was a friend. And especially not if it was Brock doing the torturing. She knew what he was capable of, but actually seeing it - no, she wasn’t ready for that. Maybe she never would be. And he hadn’t wanted her to see it, either, she realised, remembering the look on his face. Didn’t want her to witness that darkness inside of him.

She didn’t want to think, right now, about Ward’s revelation that Brock was HYDRA. She had to assume that it was past tense, considering that he was quite obviously working with Fury. Was it that darkness inside Brock that had led him to HYDRA in the first place? Had he truly turned against them because of her?

It was all too much to process right now. Skye clung to May as they headed back to find the released prisoners; the older woman let her, keeping that comforting, supportive arm around her shoulders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, the group reconvened on the Bus. Coulson and Fury went up the office, and the muted sound of Coulson yelling could be heard a short time later. Skye saw May smirk as she hauled Ward off to the Cage, looking rather the worse for the wear.

“I’m gonna go see what I can rustle up for dinner,” Trip said, excusing himself from Brock and Skye. “Give you two some time to catch up.”

“Thanks, Trip,” Skye answered with a smile. “We’ll see you a little later.”

“No sweat, girl,” he answered with a twinkle in his eye. He headed for the kitchen, leaving Skye and Brock alone in the lounge.

Skye towed Brock over to the couch and pulled him down beside her, snuggling against his side as soon as he was seated. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close. “Everything alright, sweetheart?” he asked her quietly.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “I think so. Just... so much has happened since we last spoke. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“I’m so sorry you spent the past week and a half believing that I was dead.” She squeezed him a little tighter in response.

“It’s not your fault,” she assured him after a moment. “If I hadn’t been specifically trying to identify the people the news recorded falling off the Helicarriers it wouldn’t have happened. You had no way to know I’d be doing that.”

“No, and I had no way to reach you once your team ditched your phones. Mine got busted, too; it was in my shirt pocket when I took a bullet to the chest. And no,” he said, forestalling her worried look, “I wasn’t seriously hurt. I had armor on under the shirt. Just a bruise.”

“So you teamed up with Captain Rogers to stop the launch?”

“I joined them a little before that, actually,” he told her. “I was on my way to a meeting with Fury when he got shot and let them think they’d killed him. I teamed up with Maria Hill, Cap, Agent Romanoff and a friend of Cap’s named Sam Wilson.”

Skye just nodded, listening with only a few questions here and there as he recapped the events of the past ten days. “Are you alright?” he asked when his side of the story was done. “I heard Ward kidnapped you.”

Biting her lip, Skye haltingly explained what the team had been through since HYDRA revealed itself. When she got to the part about being alone at Providence with Ward, though, she hesitated. “It was hard being there without the rest of the team. But Ward was injured, and Coulson wanted me tracking down other criminals released from the Fridge. But then I discovered that Koenig was dead. The only person who could’ve done it was Ward; everyone else was gone, and I’d seen Eric only a short time earlier. I panicked for a couple of minutes, but then I heard him looking for me. Ward had been really creeping me out, being all sympathetic about your death. Telling me that he would take care of me, now that I was alone. So I left a message hidden for the team... and then I played along.”

She glanced up at Brock and then looked away again. “I’m sorry. I thought you were dead. I thought I would have to get used to being alone again. And I thought… I thought that if you were watching over me, you would understand as long as what I was doing kept me safe. So I let him think he was getting through to me. And I kissed him, let him hold my hand. It didn’t go any further than that,” she hurried to tell him. “But it did happen, and I’m so sorry.”

Brock smoothed his hand gently over her hair. “I’m glad you did it. You’re right, if I’d been able to somehow communicate with you, I’d have told you to go right ahead. To do whatever you had to do to survive. To _win_. And that’s exactly what you did, Skye. I’m proud of you.”

She pressed her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes with relief. “You forgive me.”

“Skye, there’s nothing to forgive. Nothing at all.” He took a slow, deep breath. “Unlike me, for example.”

Brock felt Skye go slowly rigid against his side, and then she sat up and looked at him. “Was it true?” she asked, her voice not quite steady. “What Ward said. Were you - HYDRA?”

“Yes,” he met her eyes unflinchingly.

“Until when?”

He would never lie to her. Not ever. He’d promised himself that. He might not always be able to tell her everything, but he would never lie to Skye. “Until after we were together at Christmastime.”

“Oh, my God,” she put her head in her hands. He didn’t attempt to touch her. “ _Why_?”

“Why did I stop, or why was I HYDRA in the first place?”

She looked up again, met his eyes. “Ward said you turned because of me.”

“He drove me to it, actually. I discovered that he asked for a reward. For you. HYDRA have a process, a method of brainwashing that pretty much completely erases a person’s identity and replaces it with - well, with whatever they hell they want. The process has a side effect of erasing soulmarks.”

“Okay,” Skye said numbly after a moment, “I’m going to be sick.”

He followed her as she bolted for the bathroom. Held back her hair as she retched helplessly into the toilet, and cradled her in his arms as she collapsed back against him afterwards, starting to sob.

“He wanted a Stepford Wife, Skye. Not _you_. Some idealised version of you that he’s got in his head, the sick puppy.”

“And you?” she sniffled. “What do you want?”

“I want a world in which you’re safe. And free to be whoever you want to be. And I can see now that’s not a world in which HYDRA is in charge - of anything.”

“I’m pretty sure HYDRA would kill me on principle,” Skye said flippantly, resorting to quips as a defense mechanism. “I’m really bad at doing what people tell me to do.”

Brock kissed her forehead. “And that’s part of what I love about you. It’s part of what made me see that the road I thought led to a better world, to greater security... it really doesn’t.”

Skye wiped her eyes with her fingers and smiled a little when Brock handed her a tissue from the counter. “So,” she began, taking a deep breath and trying to disassociate a bit so she could keep calm. “Ward asked for me as some sort of HYDRA pet-prize, and you decided you were on the wrong team?”

“Something like that,” Brock agreed. “I went to Hill, who took me to Fury, and told them about HYDRA. I spent the past few months playing double-agent. Right up until the point where you got shot and almost died.” His expression darkened and his voice dropped lower. “I told Hill that I was done not being there when you needed me. That you’re more important to me than any mission, any fight. I was all set to come to you, to ask Coulson to let me stay, but then you ran into trouble of the Asgardian variety and you asked me to stay away.”

“So you did,” she finished with a small smile. “Which we were all quite grateful for, by the way. Before we defeated Lorelei she came back to the Bus and ensnared Fitz as well as Ward; Fitz locked Jemma in the med pod with me. Only Coulson managed to avoid it, mostly by avoiding _her_ , and of course she can’t affect women that way. But it could’ve been so much worse if you’d been here and been trapped by her, too.”

“Asgardians are nothing to mess with,” Brock agreed. “Their magic can fuck with people, and not in a good way.”

“It wouldn’t have been your fault; I would have loved you just as much after you came back to your senses as I did before... but it would’ve been a much harder fight for us to win, and I’m glad it didn’t come to that.” Skye twined her fingers with his, just holding gently.

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

Skye studied him for a long moment. “I feel like there should be more questions that I need answers to, but it’s not coming to me. So I guess I’ll just ask this: is there anything more that I _need_ to know? Or that I should know, even if I might not need to?”

He thought about it for a long moment. “There’s a lot of HYDRA operational stuff. But that’s for Coulson and Fury to know and deal with, though I’ll not keep secrets from you if you want to know them.”

Skye shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. The only thing you need to know, Skye,” he put two fingers gently under her chin, lowered his face and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips, “is that I love you. That from here on in, _you_ are my moral compass. My true north. I’ve made some shitty decisions in my life, done some terrible things. Right and wrong got a little bit blurred for me along the way. About the only thing I’m sure of now is that I love you.”

“Wheels up in ten,” May’s crisp voice over the intercom interrupted their silent staring at each other. “Buckle up.”

“Come on,” Brock helped Skye to her feet, led her back to the lounge. Fury strode past them, coat flapping on his way out, paused long enough only to nod at Brock.

“I’m out. You sticking around?”

“As long as they’ll have me.”

“Good. Coulson could use a few good men. And women. Hartley and Morse managed to pull off the mission I sent them on. There’s a number of others here and there, names you’ll know.” With a flick of his wrist, he tossed Brock a USB drive. “Take them to the Playground. And don’t you _ever_ give me cause to doubt your loyalty again.”

Brock’s arm tightened around Skye. “I don’t believe you’ll ever have cause to, sir.”

“Good,” Fury surveyed Skye for a moment before nodding. “Good luck,” he added before turning and heading towards the rear stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So Brock came clean to Skye, and she’s forgiven him. As she said to Ward, Brock had proved his love for her by turning his back on HYDRA; Ward did the opposite.**
> 
>  
> 
>  


	14. Together At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Skye finally get some alone time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter takes place at the very end of season 1 and immediately thereafter._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/selfie_zpszzzky1zo.jpg.html)

When the ramp opened after landing at the Playground, Skye stood beside Brock with her hand in his. She saw Jemma waiting for them, looking banged up but thankfully alright otherwise; with a squeeze to Brock’s hand, she let go and moved quickly down the ramp to give Jemma a tight hug.

Pulling back, Skye looked Jemma over as the rest of the team followed behind. “Fitz… is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay.”

Jemma hesitated for a moment. “He’s… he’s alive.”

The team was a little startled when another Koenig - he really did look _just_ like Eric - introduced himself and told them about the Playground. Skye sighed and leaned against Brock; she didn’t really think she was up to another crazy lie-detector test. She’d do it if Coulson told her she had to, but she hoped it could wait until tomorrow.

“For now,” Coulson told Koenig, “my people need some rest. It’s been a very long and busy day.”

“But sir, there’s orientation…” Koenig protested.

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Coulson said insistently.

“Yes, sir.” Koenig didn’t look happy, but Skye shot Coulson a grateful smile. “I’ll assign everyone guest quarters for tonight.”

Once rooms got sorted, Skye had her own room, but she didn’t expect to be using it overmuch. Instead she followed Brock into his room. He held the door for her with a smile. “Thanks,” she said, smiling back as he closed the door.

“I’m glad you want to stay with me,” Brock answered sincerely.

“I don’t think I want to let you out of my sight for a little while,” she smirked up at him.

“I think I can live with that,” he replied, chuckling quietly. She moved closer, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his shoulder. He held her close and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. “You’re always welcome to stay with me, Skye.”

“What if I wanted something more than that?” she asked, her voice low with a sultry tone.

“I’d give you anything, Skye. You know that.”

She tipped her head back, looking up into his eyes. “What if I told you I want us to complete the bond?”

His eyes went wide, passion kindling in their depths.

“I thought you weren’t sure?” he asked, his voice deep and husky.

“I wasn’t. But I know that I love you so much that I panicked and made Phil check to see if my soulmark was fading when I thought you were dead.” She kept her eyes on his. “I want to try. If I’m not really your Daisy, it won’t work. But I know you believe I am, and I want to be. I want it to work, and if it does then I’ll have to believe, won’t I?”

He bent his head and captured her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. “It’ll work, love.”

Brock’s lust was already rising, had from the moment she’d stepped into his room, though it had intensified as soon as she suggested completing their bond, because he couldn’t stop thinking about the position they’d have to take for it to work. He’d not pushed for it before, knowing that Skye wasn’t ready, wouldn’t be prepared to risk an accidental bond, and God knew they’d never had any issue with sex being anything other than fantastic in any position at all.

But the thought of having her from behind… he moaned into her mouth as Skye’s slim fingers worked his belt. “Easy. Steady, love, we’ve got all night.”

“But I _want_ you; it’s been too long,” she gasped against his neck as his hands gently fondled her breasts through her top.

“I know.” He knew only too well; too many long, lonely nights worrying about her, thinking of her. Savouring the memories of her small, lithe body twined around his. “But we’re gonna do this right.” He lifted her carefully, laid her on the bed - which was a queen, fortunately. The Playground wasn’t fancy but the bunk rooms were decently equipped. “I’m going to love you. Properly. And then I’m going to bond with you and you’re going to finally understand that you were born for me. Born to be mine.”

“Watch out, your possessive asshole tendencies are showing,” Skye warned, but she made no attempt to pull away as he sat down at the end of the bed and began to unlace her boots.

His dark eyes met hers, and he grinned slowly. “Oh, sweetheart. You knew the minute you realised where our marks were in relation to each other that I’d be at least a little on the possessive side.”

She giggled at that, and then again as he tickled her feet while pulling her socks off. “I - don’t mind so much when it’s you,” Skye confessed breathlessly as he moved up the bed, reaching for the waistband of her pants.

“Good,” he paused in stripping her to deliver a slow, heated kiss that quickly had Skye writhing under him, her hands grabbing at his shoulders, trying to peel him out of his jacket. He allowed it, unfastening his weapon harness and tossing it casually to the floor with a clatter, following that with his shirt.

“Oh my God,” Skye’s eyes widened as she saw the dinner-plate sized bruise on his chest, now faded to a nasty greenish-yellow. “That’s where you were shot? Who did it?”

“No idea,” Brock shrugged. “But if I’m gonna guess, I’d say Barnes. He was a hell of a sniper back in the day, so I heard.”

“ _What?_ ” Skye looked utterly bemused.

“You know what, that’s a story for tomorrow,” Brock said, shaking his head. “I can’t think straight with you lying here like this.”

She smiled. “As long as you promise to tell me. That sounds like quite a story.”

“You have _no_ idea.” He shook his head again, shrugging the thought off, and then reached to peel off her shirt.

Skye sighed and lay back, her eyes closing, as his hands slid lightly over her breasts, tweaking her nipples lightly through her bra. She felt him shift and moaned softly as he began trailing kisses along the soft skin, following the curve of her breast along the top of her bra. Her hands moved to his head, tangling into his hair as she cradled him against her chest.

Brock smiled as her felt her body relax, pliant beneath him. He kissed and sucked gently on her skin, teasing further moans from her. His hands slid beneath her, lifting her just enough with one hand to unhook her bra with the other. He shifted away from her just long enough to toss aside the garment and gazed down at her beautiful half-naked body. His eyes lit with passion and _hunger_ as he swept in to kiss her lips again.

Her arms went tight around him as he kissed her, pulling him in as close as she could. He braced himself just above her body, not wanting to crush her with his weight. When he finally released her mouth she opened her eyes to smile up at him. Her eyes were starry and her lips kiss-swollen already. “I love you,” she whispered.

He groaned and buried his face between her neck and shoulder, needing a moment to solidify his self-control. “I love you too,” he answered, his voice low in her ear. He bit gently at her skin down the line of her throat. “ _Mine,_ ” his voice rumbled, raising goosebumps on her skin. “My Skye.”

She laughed quietly. “Possessive asshole,” she told him again, her voice teasing.

“But I’m _your_ possessive asshole.” He lifted his head to smirk at her, winking.

“Is that supposed to make it better?”

He laughed this time. “Are you telling me it doesn’t?” Her eyes went wide as she thought about it.

“I guess you’re right. It does,” she admitted. “I can live with being yours as long as you’re just as much mine.”

“Always, love. Always,” he assured her. Shifting downwards, he rained kisses on the soft mounds of her breasts, his lips moving in random patterns.

She arched up into his kisses. “Mmm, that feels so good.”

“Good,” his reply was low, vibrating against her skin before he closed his lips around her nipple. Her breath caught in her throat as he sucked hard, his tongue flicking against the tight bud. He shifted his weight onto one arm, freeing the opposite hand to fondle her unattended breast.

Skye’s hands trailed over his shoulders, the back of his neck, into his hair, her fingers flexing as she silently demanded more. Brock smiled against her breast and used the edge of his teeth, pleased by the way Skye’s nails dug into his scalp then. Pulling off, ignoring her little wail of loss, he kissed his way gently down her flat stomach. He lingered briefly over the bullet scars, each kiss and stroke of his tongue an apology. He promised himself that nothing like that would ever happen to her again.

“Gonna spread you open and take you apart,” he growled quietly as he continued downwards, “eat you all up, my beautiful girl.” Easing her pants and panties off together, he lifted her thighs over his shoulders, turning his head to kiss down her inner thigh towards his target.

She was wet already, and Brock made a small sound of pleasure as he tasted that had Skye tremoring against him. “Please,” she whined as his tongue flicked too lightly over her clit.

“I really like it when you say that,” came his whispered response, and Skye moaned, knowing all too well what that meant. He wanted her to beg, wanted to know that she truly did desire him as much as he did her, because her arousal wasn’t nearly as visibly obvious as his. Shamelessly, she did as he asked.

“Please, Brock. Please, I want you so much. I feel so good when you touch me, when you’re inside me…”

He was panting breathlessly even as he licked around her clit, grinding his hips into the mattress, she could tell from the way his body was shifting under her legs.

“I need you,” Skye begged, almost mindless with need as she felt her climax approaching. “I need you to make me come, Brock, oh please, oh yes, BROCK!” she shouted his name as his lips fastened on her clit, suckling hard, two thick fingers thrusting suddenly into her soaking passage, crooking at the perfect angle to pass over the tiny bundle of nerves there.

“Mm,” he lapped her juices thirstily, thrusting his fingers steadily even as she clenched down on them, keeping her at that pinnacle of pleasure as long as he could. His eyes watched her along the line of her body as her back arched and her mouth opened. His Skye. So utterly perfect. Her fingers released their strong grip in his hair at last and he pulled back, wiping his chin briefly before smiling down at her. “You all right, sweetheart?”

“Oh, yes,” she assured him, her voice a satisfied purr as her body arched languidly. She reached out to pull him in for a kiss, her tongue reaching for his; it surprised her a little that she rather enjoyed finding her taste in his mouth. As if she needed more proof of the amazing high he’d given her.

He groaned into her mouth as her little hands found the button on his pants and popped it open. One hand tugged the zipper down while the other slid past the waistband, seeking and finding his erection. She stroked him lightly as his hand joined hers in sliding the unwanted garment down his legs and onto the floor.

As soon as his legs were free, his hand wrapped around her wrist and held her still. “Enough,” he groaned.

“What, you don’t want me to return the favor?” she asked coyly. He groaned again but shook his head.

“Later.” He pulled her hand away, pinning it to the bed. “There’s something else I want _much_ more right now.”

Skye moved easily with him as he rolled her onto her stomach. He kissed her soulmark, his lips and tongue tracing his name over her skin. “You’re sure about this?” he asked once more, giving her the choice even though he wanted to bond with her more than anything.

“Yes. Please, Brock.” She didn’t hesitate; if anything, his question made her all the more determined.

Unable to deny her, especially when she begged so prettily, he lifted her hips; she rose onto her knees, forehead resting on her folded arms. He paused for just a moment, enjoying the sight of her firm ass and rounded hips, then took himself in hand and slowly pushed into her slick channel. Her back arched and she moaned as he pressed in deeply.

Neither of them was quite prepared for the sensation as their soulmarks met, the bond forging between them. Skye gasped, her body trembling as tingling warmth swept through her. He tensed, his body bent to curl tightly around her; his chest against her back in a protective, possessive hold.

“Oh, God,” she whimpered as his arms wrapped around her. He enveloped her completely, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, his arms around her chest cradling her body against his. It felt _right_ , utterly and completely, and for the first time in her life she enjoyed the feeling of being entirely possessed. She felt _safe_. Warm, comforted, cradled in his love, in the tenderness he felt for her. And even though he wasn’t moving, she could feel heat welling inside her, spreading from her core outwards through her body.

“Skye,” Brock murmured softly, pressing kisses gently against her shoulder. “Are you all right, my love?”

“Yes,” she gasped in return. “I’m - so much more than all right. That feels - I can’t _begin_ to describe how that feels!”

“I know.” Brock had to close his eyes, try to limit his senses as his mind overloaded, the new sensation of the bond utterly overwhelming him. He could _feel_ Skye, feel her joy and her wonder as the bond deepened between them.

For several long moments he held still, just absorbing the sensation. And then, carefully and gently, he began to move. “Oh, hell, baby, you feel so good,” he groaned as Skye rolled her hips back against him eagerly, meeting his thrusts, encouraging him to plunge deeper. “That’s it. Oh God, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted this.”

“Not more than I have _aaahhh_ Brock!” she braced against a suddenly deeper thrust, sobbed with ecstasy as he moved, pulling her up against his chest, his hands curving over her breasts.

“Put your hands on the headboard,” he rasped out against the side of her neck, and she grabbed obediently, needing something to hold onto, to steady herself against. “That’s it.” He was playing with her nipples, slid a hand down then across her stomach to find her clit, scissor it between two thick fingers as he started to thrust again.

Skye’s body twisted and shuddered in ecstasy as the sensations - both physical and otherwise - built rapidly between them, pushing her higher and higher. Emotion and sensation passed from one to the other and back through their bond. It was like nothing she had ever imagined.

Her moans quickly escalated to screams of pleasure as her senses were overwhelmed. Her body froze, every muscle wound tense and her passage clamped down around his cock. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, as she came undone in his arms. And he could _feel_ it. Not just the sensation of her pulsing channel, but the flood of heat and pleasure that overwhelmed her.

It was too much, and he couldn’t hold back. As their pleasure passed back and forth between them, they came together. Her gasp for breath mingled with his groan of release as they hung suspended in that feeling for what felt like eternity.

When they crashed back to Earth, they did so together. Skye wilted, body going limp, and he instinctively gathered her closer to his chest. Held her close even as they fell onto their sides on the soft mattress. Her arms came to rest over the top of his, securely around her body, and his chin came to rest on her shoulder.

Neither spoke for a long time. They didn’t need to; their feelings open to each other through the bond.

“I’m sorry I doubted,” Skye whispered at last. “To think we could’ve had _this_ all this time… that we could’ve always known, that I’d have known you were still alive…”

“Don’t,” he hushed her quickly. “We needed time. Even with soulbonds, love doesn’t grow overnight. You had reason to doubt, and I understood.”

“But now we know,” she said, her contentment overtaking any lingering regret.

“Now we know,” he agreed. “And our bond will be stronger because our emotions are deeper. We’ll always have each other, through the good and the bad.”

She didn’t speak, but he could feel the joy his words sparked in her. To never be entirely alone again… it was an amazing thing for both of them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Of course, their trials are just beginning. But at least now, they have each other.**
> 
>  


	15. Reality Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock has to find a way to convince Phil and May to let him stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter occur in the intermission between Seasons 1 and 2._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/black%20shirt%203_zpszymvgm80.jpg.html)

They could have stayed lost in each other for days, probably, exploring the depth, the complexity of the bond that strengthened between them with every touch, every moment spent in each other’s company. But real life intruded with a sharp rapping on Brock’s door a little after dawn.

“Rumlow,” May’s cool voice said outside. “Coulson wants to talk to you.”

He sighed. Pressed his face for a moment into the cool darkness of Skye’s hair, spread across his pillow. “Can I have ten minutes for a shower?”

“Sure. And Phil says, bring Skye with you if you don’t want to have to repeat it all twice.” There was an undercurrent of amusement in May’s voice.

Brock was a little surprised, when he walked into Phil’s office hand in hand with Skye, to find that breakfast had been laid on. There was a selection of pastries on a table and a carafe of coffee. Skye headed for the coffee in zombie mode, hands outstretched; Brock grinned and turned to Phil, who was sitting behind his desk, fingers steepled together, staring at him as though he’d never seen him before.

“I take it from your expression that Fury told you?”

May had stayed close to the door, he could see her from the corner of his eye. It didn’t surprise him at all that she drew a gun then; the surprise was that it was an ICER.

“No!” The only reason Skye didn’t end up with hot coffee all over her was that she hadn’t picked the cup more than an inch off the table. It dropped with a thud and sloshed; she ignored it, sprinting to Brock, wrapping her arms around him, putting her body between him and May. The fact that he was a head taller than her she could do nothing about, though, and May simply readjusted her aim towards Brock’s face.

“Get away from him, Skye, he’s HYDRA,” May growled.

“He’s not! Not any more! Tell them, Brock!”

“I’m not any more,” he agreed quietly, meeting Phil’s eyes steadily. “But I was. Meeting Skye made me reassess my priorities. My life goals. I understood from almost the first time we met that she could never be HYDRA; she’d never conform, never fit into the slot they’d try to create for her, and for that, they would destroy her. I couldn’t let that happen. And once I realised that, I realised that I was destroying _myself_ , trying to fit into that slot too. I just wanted somewhere to belong, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. It took meeting Skye to make me realise that place wasn’t with HYDRA.”

Phil’s expression did not change.

“I have one question for you, Rumlow, and one only. Would you go back to HYDRA if something happened to Skye?”

He didn’t have to think about it. “No.”

Phil cocked his head, inviting him to elaborate. Brock sighed.

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, knowing that I’d done something that Skye would hate so utterly.” He tightened his arms around Skye for a moment. “Now that we’ve bonded - I’m not sure I’d be able to live anyway, if something happened to her.”

May lowered the ICER slowly. “You two really are soulmates?”

“The bond couldn’t exist if we weren’t.” He shrugged.

“Drive Brock away, and I’m gone too,” Skye said a little defiantly, turning her head to meet Phil’s eyes.

Brock actually chuckled. “Coulson’s got bigger things to worry about than the potential loss of a traitor and a newbie agent, honey.”

Phil sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Right now, Rumlow, I probably don’t. I am very, very short on manpower. An agent with your experience, your contacts, would be literally priceless. I want to trust you, I really do. Fury told me that I could trust you as long as I trusted Skye, and I have already trusted her with my life.”

“I am SHIELD,” Skye said when Brock just shrugged. “This is my family, the only one I’ve ever known. My home. I can _feel_ Brock, feel his emotions. I’d _know_ if he planned to betray us, betray _me_. I’m not sure he could.”

“I couldn’t,” Brock agreed quietly. “But I can understand why May and Coulson are concerned.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Phil sighed. “Billy Koenig insists you all have to sit the Lie Detector again. More complicated this time. He doesn’t understand how Ward managed to fool Eric. Skye, I’d like you to go first, then Rumlow. And you and I will sit in on Rumlow’s test. I want to make sure Koenig asks the right questions. And assuming that you pass, Rumlow, you and I are going to have a very, _very_ long debrief.”

“If you’d said anything else I’d have been worried,” Brock told him, nodding his agreement.

“Another one of these stupid tests?” Skye sighed. “Fine. I’ll go first, and I have no problem staying for the next one.” She sent a reassuring thought to Brock, and he smiled.

“It’s fine with me. I have no intention of keeping dangerous secrets from Skye anymore,” Brock agreed as well.

“Good,” Coulson said firmly. “Koenig should be ready shortly.”

“In that case,” Skye said, finally releasing Brock to go retrieve her coffee, “I plan on having something in my stomach before we go. And while the guns are great for an adrenaline hit,” she glared briefly at May, who returned the look steadily, “I still need my caffeine.”

Coulson nodded, smiling fondly at Skye. “I figured you would. Go ahead, both of you. I’d imagine these tests aren’t fun.”

Skye sipped her coffee, an apple fritter and a poppyseed muffin on a napkin in her other hand. “No, not really. Hey, Coulson? With all the body specs those detectors are meant to measure, would Ward’s injuries have thrown things off? Or could the fact that we didn’t know he was enhanced factor in?”

Coulson looked surprised and May looked thoughtful. “I don’t know, but I can mention it to Billy.”

“Because if it can be affected by injuries, several of our team at this point have taken bad hits in the past few days,” Skye pointed out.

“You should ask,” Brock said in a low tone. “Because if enhancements affect it, this agent of yours will need to adjust it for me too.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw May nod to herself, her suspicion confirmed. Skye also accepted the information readily, having already guessed something similar based on bits and pieces of other conversations they’d had as well as his comment about Ward at Cybertek.

Coulson blinked, but kept his expression neutral. “Enhanced how?”

“HYDRA has been working on re-creating the super-soldier serum for decades. It’s still not as good as the original formula used on Captain Rogers, but it’s gotten a lot closer over the years. Several of us were enhanced all at once, including myself, Rollins and Ward. It’s how I knew Ward was HYDRA, actually.”

Coulson frowned. “That’s not good. How many people?”

Brock shrugged. “I have no idea. Quite a few didn’t make it through the process, and I’d imagine that some died last week.”

“What sort of enhancements?” May spoke up, her expression showing a determination to be prepared.

“The usual. Speed, strength, stamina, reflexes, accelerated healing. Improved senses; hearing, sight, smell.”

“Minimized refractory period,” Skye murmured under her breath, making the connection; Brock heard her and chuckled but didn’t comment.

“Increased metabolism,” he added, heading over to the table and collecting a Danish. “Which can be a drawback, unfortunately.”

May and Coulson looked at each other and sighed. “Just fantastic,” May muttered. “More fucking super-soldiers.”

“If it’s any comfort,” Brock said, “the Avengers destroyed the lab that was in the business of creating them several months ago. They didn’t know it was HYDRA, of course. As far as I know, they couldn’t recreate the enhancement process. Which is why Quinn was mucking about with Centipede.”

“Huh,” Coulson nodded slowly. “Makes sense. Would you be willing to give a blood sample to Simmons? We should have it on file anyway, and perhaps she can identify some of the factors.”

Brock shrugged. “As long as that doesn’t get back into HYDRA’s hands. Part of what I’d like to do with SHIELD, with your permission, sir, is track what happened to those of us who were enhanced in that lab. We have Ward in custody…”

“Which we’re keeping quiet,” May said sharply.

“Acknowledged,” Brock tipped his head. “Rollins died in the Triskelion, according to Wilson. But I can ID half a dozen others and they need taking out, if they haven’t been already.”

“On that, we can all agree,” Coulson nodded, getting up and heading over to get himself more coffee. “All right. When you’re ready.”

Skye sucked down the last mouthful of her coffee. “Let’s get the torture over with.”

May and Rumlow exchanged amused looks as they followed her out. “She has no idea,” May murmured under her breath.

“And as long as I’m around to protect her, she’s never going to find out,” Brock replied softly.

“I’m agreeing with you again. That’s weird.”

Brock grinned at May. “We’re on the same team. Team Skye.”

“Don’t even start.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Agent Skye,” Billy Koenig said, “are you loyal to SHIELD, under the directorship of Phil Coulson?”

“Yes.”

Koenig’s eyebrows raised at the calm, definitive statement. “Oh-kay. Tell me how you feel about HYDRA.”

“They are murdering, thieving, lying _bastards_. And I am going to help Coulson take down every last one of them.” Her tone was pure venom.

“I think we’re done here.”

“What?” Skye blinked, astonished, as he switched the machine off. “That’s it? I thought Coulson said this would be an expanded test?”

“For some people.” Billy shrugged at her. “Not you. Not even Agent May was that definitive about her feelings towards HYDRA. Eric copied me your results from Providence, too. I’m not remotely worried about you. Your boyfriend, though? I’m gonna put _him_ through the wringer.”

“We heard,” she said drily. “Coulson has asked me to stay through his test,” she said as she hopped out of the chair. “And trust me when I tell you that I’ll be able to tell if he’s lying about something. He knows that.”

Billy raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Well, yeah.” She studied Billy for a moment; it would be far too easy to transfer the ready friendship she’d felt for Eric to his brother, but her gut told her that both Koenigs were equally trustworthy. “We have a fully functional soulbond,” she explained quietly. “I’d _know_.”

“Be that as it may, you’ll forgive me if I’d like independent - and _objective_ \- confirmation.”

“Yep. I get it,” she responded agreeably. “I’ll just be over here, out of the way,” she added as she moved to one of the normal chairs at the side of the room. “Did Coulson ask you about how physical enhancements might affect the machine?”

“He mentioned it, yes. I think it will require some specific metabolic calibration and I will probably have to expand the baseline questions.” Skye nodded and stayed quiet, letting him do his work.

A few minutes later he called in both Brock and Coulson. “Please have a seat in the chair, Agent Rumlow,” Billy said, his tone reserved. Brock did so, glancing at Skye. She nodded and sent him a silent wave of support.

When they began, Billy started with a number of seemingly random questions. Since Rumlow had never been through this test before, he was able to use several of the original questions; Skye recognized the one about the egg, the deserted island, etc. But there were more, many more.

Then the real questions began. Billy started with the first one he’d asked Skye. “Agent Rumlow, are you loyal to SHIELD, under the directorship of Phil Coulson?”

“My first loyalty is to Skye,” he said honestly. “As long as she believes in this and belongs here, I will be too.”

“And what will you do if Agent Skye is at risk?”

“Whatever I have to do to keep her safe.”

“If the two of you were on a _vital_ mission and she were hurt, unable to continue, what would you do?”

Brock glanced at Skye and took a deep breath. “Make her as safe as I could; if I couldn’t, I’d get her out and then go back.”

Skye frowned just slightly but didn’t comment. Her personal safety couldn’t be more important than the safety of the world; they’d have to talk about this. But he was being entirely honest, which should get him past this test at least.

“If Agent Skye were to die, would you go back to HYDRA?”

“No,” he said simply, then reiterated his earlier answer to Coulson. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did something she’d hate. Besides, I don’t expect to outlive her at all, or if I do it probably won’t be for long.” He hesitated. “Long enough to get vengeance. That’d be all I’d want.”

There was silence for a long moment. A single tear slipped down Skye’s cheek, and Brock looked over at her. Smiled very slightly. “It’s not going to become an issue, sweetheart. Anyone coming after you will have to go through me anyway. And I’m pretty damned hard to kill.”

Billy looked at Coulson, who nodded for him to continue. “I think I might already know the answer to this question, but I’ll ask anyway. Why are you here, Agent Rumlow?”

“Because Skye is here.”

“What do you plan to do now?”

That one made Brock blink. From the corner of his eye, he saw Coulson lean forward, his expression intent.

“Fury left me a task, the doing of which will assist Coulson in his endeavours to rebuild SHIELD. I owe Fury a debt I can’t repay anyway, so I will, with Coulson’s permission, carry that task out, after telling him everything I can about HYDRA and their operations. After that,” he shrugged again. “I’m a SHIELD agent as long as Skye is. I’ll take Coulson’s orders because he’s the Director. Whatever he needs me to do.”

Billy shrugged and looked at Coulson. “As far as I can determine, sir, he’s told nothing but the absolute truth.”

“Yes,” Skye confirmed quietly when Phil glanced at her. “He has.”

“In that case, Agent Rumlow,” Phil stood up, offered his hand, “Welcome back to SHIELD. Get him a lanyard, Agent Koenig.”

“Wow,” Brock stood up as Billy disconnected him from the machine, stretched and grinned at Skye. “Telling the truth’s way easier than lying for a living. You only have to keep one story straight.”

“Talking about that,” Phil said thoughtfully as they left the Lie Detector room, “you were HYDRA undercover within SHIELD for a long time. Do you think you could coach some agents into doing things the other way around?”

“You’re thinking about implanting some double agents? HYDRA will be suspicious. To get anyone in at a high level, they’d have to do some pretty unsavoury things.”

“I think we’re all going to have to do things we don’t find particularly pleasant,” Phil said a little sadly. “Fight fire with fire.” He looked at Skye. “While I have no doubt that Agent Rumlow will share with you anything you ask about, Skye, there are some operational security matters I would like to discuss with him that you don’t need to be privy to right now. And I badly need you managing our computer support division. Romanoff released too much information out into the wild. The sheer volume of it was overwhelming at first, but our enemies are starting to winnow through and find the gold amid the dross. We need to protect our people.”

Skye nodded. “Got it, DC,” she said. She exchanged a quick look with Brock, pressed her fingers against his hand lightly, and headed off down the corridor. Even once she was out of sight, though, he could still feel her, feel the soft warmth of her mind.

“What’s it like?” Phil asked suddenly, as they re-entered his office and sat down. “Having a soulbond?”

Brock took a moment to answer. “I can’t speak for anyone else. But for me it’s like coming in on a cold night and finding a roaring fire. Warmth and light, a feeling of comfort. And even more than that, the sense that I’ll never be alone again.”

Phil nodded slowly. “I think I envy you.”

A little uncomfortable with talking about it, Brock shrugged and changed the subject. “So. Fury left me this.” He held up the USB drive. “I didn’t get to look at it yet, but he did mention STRIKE Team Gamma, who as far as I know are out in the wind. I’m getting the very strong impression that you could really use that pair and their contacts.”

“Understatement,” Coulson commented wryly. “But I thought Morse might be a good agent to start with, if we’re looking at undercover ops. Hartley could just as easily be the point of contact for their other arrangements.”

Brock considered the pair and nodded. “It could work. I take it you want me to find them and get all this started?”

Coulson nodded. “Morse will need time to work her way up the chain, so sooner is better.” Then he smiled. “But we’ve got your debrief to get through first, and you could probably use a day or two of down-time. Skye wouldn’t easily forgive me if I sent you out again so soon anyway.”

Brock chuckled. “You’re probably right about that. But we can make preparations and try contacting Team Gamma before I leave, set up a meet point. No point in wasting time if they’re reachable.”

“Of course. Shall we get that debrief started?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **There was a lot of detail we didn’t get in AoS, such as how Coulson found Morse, Hartley and Mack. So among other things, we’ve provided a way.**


	16. New Assignments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Skye explore the depth of their bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter occur in the intermission between Seasons 1 and 2._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/tumblr_nedqmxKy5C1r2p5igo2_1280_zps6ezeltmx.jpg.html)

Skye spent the rest of the day writing programs. The first batch were created to scan the Internet for SHIELD files, specifically ones relevant to particular operatives, and relocate them to a secure server. She ran a few tests with limited parameters, tweaked the programs until they did what she needed them to do, and then set them to run.

After those came programs to locate other SHIELD data focusing on key names belonging to known HYDRA agents. She filled in the ones she knew and planned to ask Brock for any others. She wasn’t sure if they’d want those files removed, but she did write the programs to copy the information into a separate section of their server.

It was tedious work, though not particularly difficult.

Jemma - _bless her_ \- interrupted at lunch to make Skye stop and eat. She sent a questioning thought at Brock but learned that he was still busy with Coulson. So she made do with Jemma and Trip for company while they made sandwiches and ate.

As she was wrapping up her work for the afternoon, she was surprised by a knock at her door. “Come in,” she called out, not looking up from her computer.

She heard the door open and shut, and then nothing. She finished the line of code in her mind and paused to look up. May stood there, watching her quietly, and nodded a greeting.

“Hey. What’s up?” Skye asked, curious.

“Are you still interested in operations training?” May asked, direct and to the point as usual.

Skye nodded. “Yes. Especially now, I think I have to be.”

“I’ll talk to Coulson. We’ll start in a few days; as soon as your project is off the ground.”

Skye blinked. “Just like that?”

“Of course.” She paused, studying the younger agent’s expression. “Look, Skye, Rumlow can’t be your SO. I know Coulson doesn’t particularly care about the fraternization regulations, but we can’t take a chance that he’d go easy on you in training. You need to learn, and learn it right.”

Skye nodded, understanding dawning. “I get it.” Then she smiled. “Thank you, May. I appreciate it.”

“We’ll see if you say that this time next week.” May let herself out of the office without another word. Skye rolled her eyes, still smiling.

“We will indeed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dinnertime and they were sitting down to Chinese takeout - again, bless Jemma, who’d already investigated the local takeout options and collected menus - when Brock and Phil finally emerged from his office and came to join them. Brock stooped to kiss Skye before taking a seat beside her and grabbing some chopsticks and a plate.

She didn’t have to ask how the debrief had gone. There were more lines of worry, not less, on Phil’s face. Obviously Brock’s HYDRA information had given him even more things to think about. But he settled quietly into a chair as well and accepted the plate May handed him, even took the beer Skye pushed in his direction.

Brock, however, felt - _lighter_ , somehow, in the back of Skye’s mind where she could feel their bond. As though he’d shed some of his darkest shadows simply by sharing them with Phil. She sent him a loving touch through the bond, saw him smile, though he didn’t look at her. A moment later he dropped a casual hand on her thigh and squeezed lightly, making Skye jump slightly and almost choke on her fried rice.

_You asshole_ , she thought at him fiercely, knowing he’d pick up the sentiment if not the exact words. His faint smile turned to a smirk and his fingers trailed lightly up her inner thigh, even as he deftly used his chopsticks to take another bite of noodles.

Skye had never wished more to be left-handed. As it was, she had to keep eating with her right hand, even as her left clenched under the table and Brock’s fingers pressed against her groin, lightly chafing, using the inseam of her pants to stimulate her clit.

Skye’s eyes almost rolled back in her head. She tried hard to concentrate on breathing steadily, on responding to a remark Trip made. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to see May watching her. The older agent arched a brow and mouthed ‘Get a room.’

“You know, I think I’m going to turn in,” Skye pushed back from the table abruptly. “Been a long day. I’m going to have a shower and get some sleep.”

Brock glanced sideways at her, his eyes laughing. “See you soon.”

Of course, when she got to his room she discovered that all the doors had been reset and her lanyard wouldn’t open it. Growling to herself, Skye headed back down the corridor to the room assigned to her. _Fine. Damn it._ She’d have a shower here and he could jolly well come looking for her.

He was waiting when she came out of the shower, stretched out on her bed, stripped down to just his cargo pants. Skye stopped short, towelling off her hair. “How did you get in here?”

Brock smirked at her. “When I realised that you were annoyed because you couldn’t get into my room, I asked Koenig to reset the lanyard passcodes. He apologised for forgetting to give us access to each other’s rooms.”

“Of course he did,” Skye shook her head, sighing at herself for being silly about it. “Well. Let me grab some stuff…”

“No rush,” he shrugged, and as always her eyes were distracted by the ripple of his chest and shoulder muscles under his olive skin. “I’m quite comfortable.”

“Are you?” she grinned, looking down at him. “Well, I think I owe you a little _discomfort_ , after that stunt you pulled at dinner.” And she attacked, diving in to tickle his ribs.

Brock caught her easily and though she got in a few good pokes that had him chuckling, he quickly rolled her underneath him. He caught both her wrists in one of his hands and held her, pinned. Grinning down at her, he watched her huff in annoyance though her eyes twinkled merrily. “Gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart,” he told her, his tone teasing.

“Damn,” she swore, twisting and wiggling to no avail. “Guess it’s a good thing I accepted May’s offer to continue my training. I’ll have to have a better plan next time,” she said flippantly.

“May actually offered?” He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Yeah, this afternoon. She said that though Coulson doesn’t likely care much about enforcing fraternization rules, they wouldn’t be able to let you be my SO. Which is fine, I get it.” Skye shrugged lightly. “Looking back, sometimes I think Ward was holding me to a standard more appropriate to a super-soldier than a normal human. At least I won’t have that issue with May.”

“I’m glad she’s taken you on, Skye,” Brock told her readily. “You’ll be far safer in her care than you ever were in Ward’s, and I don’t think Trip has the experience to teach yet.”

Skye shrugged again. Rather than trying to continue the tickle fight, she arched beneath him and raised her head to lightly bite his bare shoulder. His low groan was ample reward and she smirked, feeling that they were even for his earlier teasing in the kitchen.

“You know that May caught what you were doing at dinner, right?” she asked after a moment. Her eyes laughed, though her tone was even. “It won’t be me she’s annoyed at tomorrow.”

Brock snickered. “She can be annoyed as much as she wants,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t _fucking_ care what she thinks right now. Only what you think.”

“I think,” she said softly, looking up at him through the veil of her lashes, “that you should finish what you started at dinner. Or _I_ might be annoyed at you.”

“Well,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that familiar husky rasp, “I wouldn’t want that.” His free hand came down, plucked at the knot holding her towel closed over her breasts. In a moment she was bared to his eyes, smiling up at him as he drew in a harsh breath.

“Fucking hell,” he growled softly, eyes on her breasts. “I just. Every time I see you, you take my fucking breath away, Skye. So damn beautiful.”

She tugged against the hold he had on her wrists, but he shook his head. “Oh no, sweetheart.”

“ _Brock_ ,” she whined, but he knew from the emotions he could sense in the back of his mind that she was far from distressed by the situation. Smirking, he buried his face in her neck, nipping and sucking at the tender skin of her throat until her head fell back and she moaned his name.

“Want to touch you,” Skye sobbed, and he let go of her hands finally, sliding down her body to kiss and suckle at her breasts as she ran her fingers over his broad shoulders, up his strong neck into his thick dark hair. He groaned as she tugged lightly, bit at her nipple gently.

“It’s my turn,” Skye gasped then, and he lifted his head.

“Say what?” his eyes were glazed, pupils blown right out.

“I want you in my mouth. Want to taste you on my tongue. Please, Brock.”

“Ah, hell,” he muttered thickly. “I can’t say no to you on anything, but how the _hell_ could I say no to _that_?” Especially since he could _feel_ her genuine desire.

It was Skye’s turn to smirk as he rolled off her and lay back, lifting his hips to let her pull his cargo pants down and off. She couldn’t resist sliding her hands under his ass for a grab, making him chuckle.

“You like my ass, sweetheart?”

“You’re kidding, right?” she nudged his knees apart, knelt between them, looking up along the line of his body. “Your whole body is a work of art. Were you like this before you were enhanced?”

“I’ll have you know these muscles were born of sheer bloody hard work and sweat,” he said, a little indignantly. “Rogers was the only one who got upgraded from a 90-pound weakling. HYDRA _started off_ with perfect physical specimens.”

“They certainly did,” she looked down at his cock, thick and flushed with arousal, lying against his stomach and twitching slightly as her warm breath flowed over it.

Deciding to start slow, she borrowed one of his moves and kissed her way slowly along his inner thigh. The scent of him was earthy, musky, and it surrounded her as she settled between his thighs. She shifted her attention to his cock but started slowly, just barely brushing her lips over his skin. From base to tip, she ghosted feather-light kisses along his length.

Brock groaned low in his throat, the light kisses and feel of her warm breath making him harder than he thought possible. He tangled his fingers into the sheets beneath him, willing to let her have her fun and explore him at her own pace.

Feeling his quiet determination to let her take her time, Skye decided to surprise him. She opened her mouth and slid her tongue up along his length, following the path of her kisses. When she reached the tip she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock once and then in a quick move she sucked him in deeply. He groaned and bucked upwards briefly before tensing to hold himself still, but she’d anticipated that and just rose with him.

She closed her eyes as she began to bob her head up and down over him; she focused on the feel of him filling her mouth, the heady, musky taste on her tongue, the heavy scent of his body in her nose. In that moment he flooded her senses and her world narrowed down to nothing but _him._

“Fuck, Skye,” he groaned again; she hummed an agreement, low in her throat, and opened her eyes to look up at him. The sight of her there between his legs, dark gaze on him and full lips wrapped around his cock sent a wave of heat through him. And she knew it, little minx. He could feel her enjoyment, her satisfaction, and _knew_ from the sensation through the bond that playing with him was getting her nice and wet.

Brock couldn’t help but reach to caress her hair, a light, loving touch. “You’re gonna have to stop,” he rasped, “or I’m gonna come. This feels - it’s too much.” It was a feedback loop, her pleasure feeding his, and he knew very well that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back. And then he felt her amusement, her determination.

“Oh fuck no!”

Slender fingers caressed his balls, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and she accelerated her rhythm.

“Skye!” It was a strangled cry as he came, trying hard to hold his hips still and not buck into her mouth again. He couldn’t quite keep his fingers from clenching lightly in her hair, but she clearly didn’t mind, moaning around him even as she swallowed him down.

Brock could only gasp for breath, shaking as the aftershocks rippled through his body. Skye was still mouthing him gently, licking him clean, pressing kisses on his stomach.

“You know,” she said after a few moments, “we really didn’t talk about that refractory period yet.”

“You little witch,” he mumbled, brain still scrambled from what she’d just done to him, “I’ll show you refractory period!”

“Well, I was hoping you would.” Skye crossed her arms on his stomach, leaned her chin on them and grinned at him. “Since I’m all unsatisfied here.”

He mock-growled at her mischievous tone, and then grabbed her by the upper arms and pulled her up over his body. “Let me fix that. _Thoroughly_.”

She moaned softly as the drag of her body across his teased her nerves. “Please do,” she gasped out, her tone still mildly flirtatious. In response he gave her a heated look and devoured her mouth, kissing her breathless.

The moment he released her mouth, he grabbed her hips and pulled. “I’m gonna return the favor,” he rumbled at her. “Gonna eat you up, make you scream my name.” He maneuvered her until she was upright, kneeling over his face. She clutched at the headboard as he pulled her hips down to meet his mouth and swept his tongue over her dripping folds.

Her back arched as he lapped at her, his tongue brushing over her clit but never for long enough to do more than tease. She knew in the back of her mind that he fully intended to make her come on his tongue before he fucked her into utter satiation, and she had absolutely no problems with that.

The problem was the thread of mischief she could sense winding through his thoughts. Skye’s knees tremored as he took her close to orgasm - and then stopped dead.

“Brock!” she whined frantically. “Don’t - oh God, you’re such a tease!” as his tongue danced very lightly over her clit, not enough to push her over the edge.

He only laughed darkly, his strong hands on her hips preventing her from pushing herself against his face. Teeth scraped lightly over her swollen, aching bud and Skye yelped.

“Don’t like edging, sweetheart? I do. Makes everything feel so much more intense when I finally let you come.”

She was panting, quick shallow breaths, her fingers clenched tightly on the headboard. Slowly her breathing steadied - and just as she was able to open her eyes and look down at him, he started licking again.

Brock could feel _exactly_ how close Skye was to coming. And he shamelessly used that advantage, taking her closer and closer to the edge, building her up a little higher each time before stopping dead and bringing her back down. He kept at it until she was sobbing and writhing in his grip, her knees pressing at his ears, his name a constant chant on her lips, interspersed with frantic pleas. And then, finally, he fastened his lips on her clit and sucked and sucked, not stopping until she came with a scream and a gush of liquid over his face.

Skye was barely aware of Brock moving, lifting her easily, turning them so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed with her astride his lap, pushing slowly up into her even as she still shook and gasped from possibly the most intense orgasm she’d ever had.

“Oh _Skye_ ,” Brock gasped, a little stunned. This feedback thing was going to take some getting used to, he realised; quite apart from the amazing sensation of her vaginal muscles fluttering and clenching on him even as he pushed in, he could _feel_ her ecstasy. _Female orgasms really did last a lot longer than male,_ he thought inconsequentially.

She could only moan, words escaping her at the moment, as she felt his cock stretching her open, filling her deeply. Her arms wound around his neck, holding on as he raised her hips and then lowered them again. She was still strung out, the new surge of pleasure as he moved inside her keeping her body from relaxing more than a little. Her inner muscles held him tightly, providing them both with slick friction as he moved.

On top of that, she could also now feel his pleasure, feel how he responded to her tension and the way her core caressed his length with each stroke. It was unbelievably intense, and part of her thought that she might be able to come again just from this; from her body’s sensation driving him on and his ecstasy feeding into her in an unending loop.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to last long, between the tight feel of her body and the feedback from the bond, Brock began to thrust harder. Their pace increased, her hips rocking in time with his. And while he knew through the bond that he probably could get her off again just like this, he wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted to push her to new heights, to make her feel things no one else ever had.

When he bent his head to catch her nipple in his mouth, Skye began to keen. She threw her head back, arching her chest up towards him even as her hips picked up the pace again. The moment his thumb found her clit, she was lost. Swept away on waves of pleasure that didn’t stop. She was so sensitive and he was so intent that she just kept coming, over and over again.

She’d lost count by the time the build-up became too much for him. His hands grabbed her hips and held her still as he slammed deeply into her once more. His shout mingled with hers as he finally came. They held there, frozen, for God only knows how long as the echo of pleasure back and forth between them slowly tapered off. Skye was the first to really relax, her body going limp in his arms.

Brock managed to pull himself further up onto the bed before he lay back, still cradling her body against his. Light tremors shook her body until the aftershocks died away and she fell still. They were quiet as they slowly managed to catch their breaths; neither having words to explain what they were feeling, but able to share anyway because of their bond.

“Holy fucking shit,” she whispered eventually. “That was absolutely fucking _mind-blowing_.”

“Uhn,” was the only response he managed verbally, but his arms tightened around her briefly, and she could feel his satisfaction - on so many levels, both physical satisfaction and his pleasure in having made _her_ enjoy that so much.

“Is it - going to be like that every time, now we’ve bonded?” Skye couldn’t help but ask.

“I’ve no idea,” Brock admitted after a few moments. “I’ve never known anyone who was soulbonded. In the movies it’s always shown that soulbonded couples really don’t get into disputes, and I can understand why, now. The thought of you being upset with me is really unpleasant.”

She nodded against his chest in agreement, and finally leaned back to look at him, smiling. “Considering how ridiculously honest you seem to be with me now, I can’t see you pissing me off that badly at all.”

He grinned ruefully. “I didn’t tell you yet what Coulson and I talked about. He needs me to go out into the field and track down some SHIELD assets.”

“And I can’t come with,” Skye realised with a sigh.

“You’re needed here. And I’ll be a lot happier knowing that you’re safe here, with Coulson and May and your friends.”

She sighed and burrowed closer against him, tucking her head into the curve of his neck. “When do you have to go?”

“Couple of days. We need to build a plan, but it can’t be left long. Some of these guys are in the wind with no protection from HYDRA at all. Coulson needs me to get to them before anyone else does.”

“I understand.” Skye traced her fingers lightly over his shoulders. She could feel his regret at the mere thought of leaving her, but also his iron determination to get the job done. To save what he could of SHIELD, for her sake. Because she’d made SHIELD her home. “I don’t like it, and I’ll miss you every minute you’re gone - but I do understand.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **And so they’re going to have to split again. But at least this time, they’ll have their bond to keep them connected.**


	17. Recruiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock goes out to recruit some help for Coulson's SHIELD team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter is still in the interlude between seasons 1 and 2._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/grey%20suit_zpsuam3zvzt.jpg.html)

Tracking down Gamma Team was actually easier the second time than the first. They were still in Europe - or back there again - laying low as the SHIELD witch-hunt went on in the US. Brock managed to make contact with them within a week of his debrief with Coulson.

Skye was still annoyed with Coulson sending him off again so soon, but that was Coulson’s problem. As long as she wasn’t pissed at _him_ , Brock could manage this job. It helped that this time, the only thing hindering their ability to keep in touch was the time difference. Brock’s mission was informational, not operational, so he could text and call her when time allowed.

“Hey stranger,” Hartley said with a smile when he met up with the pair in a little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop they suggested. She stood and kissed his cheek briefly before they both sat down.

“Hey, Iz,” he greeted her with a smile and a low voice, in a much better mood this time around. “Bobbi,” he added, nodding to the tall blonde seated beside her partner.

“Brock,” Morse replied with a friendly smile. Just friends meeting for coffee, as anyone could see. All three of them were quietly watchful, though no one seemed to be paying them the least bit of attention. “I see you weathered the storm?”

He chuckled. “More or less. I had some solid support, though. You two?”

“Blown about a bit, but still standing,” Hartley said with a shrug.

“Think you’d be interested in seeing some old friends?” he asked casually, giving them the sign that meant “teammates” even as he said “friends” aloud.

The two glanced at each other and then back at him. “Possibly. Who’d you have in mind?“

“Well, Phil’s got a new project that he thinks you could be interested in,” he said, lowering his voice even though he was still speaking in vague terms. “We might need you to round up some other friends, though, Izzy. It’s not much of a party if there are only a few of us.”

Hartley looked thoughtful, though she nodded. “Figure I could probably rustle up a few folks.”

With a nod, Brock looked from Hartley to Morse. “He’s got a project that’s up your alley too, Bobbi. If you’re interested at all.”

“Perhaps,” Bobbi said with a shrug. “I’d like to hear more about this party, though. Maybe we should take our coffee to go?” All three agents already had paper cups on the table, but Brock nodded.

“Take you back to my place, if you like,” he offered. He was planning to switch hotels in the morning anyway; there was no reason not to take them back to the room he’d already secured for privacy.

“Sounds good to me,” Hartley answered easily. The three gathered up their drinks and jackets and headed out onto the street. The hotel wasn’t far so they walked; little European towns like this didn’t have nearly as much vehicle traffic as towns in the US did.

They’d just reached the hotel when Brock’s phone beeped. He waited until they were safely in his room, the door locked and bolted behind them, before pulling it out to check the message.

_Good morning, love._ It was from Skye, of course. With the time difference, she was probably just getting up.

_Morning sweetheart,_ he sent back. _Have some company for a bit - the friendly sort. So I may be busy for a bit._

_I understand. I have training with May soon, but I’ll be around after._

“What’s up?” Morse asked curiously when he put his phone away.

He couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face as he said; “My soulmate.”

She blinked blue eyes at him, astonished. “ _You_ have a soulmate?”

“Yup. Found her before the whole thing went south, managed to make it through. She’s SHIELD too. Working with Coulson.”

Hartley and Morse exchanged a glance, before Hartley shrugged. “I think I’d be interested to meet the woman who’s a match for you.”

“Get some folks together and head back Stateside and you can. Coulson’s desperate for help, Iz. Who’ve you got?”

“Idaho,” she said at once, and Brock nodded. He’d known the merc for a while, seen him operate. A good guy in a crisis. “Um… Hunter?”

The two women looked at each other, and Bobbi shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with it. Especially if I’m not gonna be around.”

“That’s your ex-husband, isn’t it, Bobbi?” Brock asked curiously.

“Yeah, did you ever meet him?”

“Can’t say as I did.”

“You’d probably like him, actually. Right up until the point he started questioning your authority, and then you’d probably feed him his teeth.”

Hartley chuckled. “Now now, Bobbi. Don’t be mean. Hunter’s just not good at taking orders without a reason attached to them, Rumlow,” she clarified. “He likes to know what he’s fighting for.”

“I actually don’t have a problem with that,” Brock said, thinking of all those who’d blindly followed orders and died in recent days. “Coulson’s the secretive type, though not as bad as Fury. I reckon Hunter could work with him - or at least with him through you, Iz.”

Both women nodded, and then Bobbi leant back in her chair, crossed her ankles and stared at him. “So what do you need me to do?”

“We need eyes inside HYDRA. Coulson has information that there’s a lab being operated under the aegis of a guy called Whitehall, who’s one of HYDRA’s top men, especially now Pierce is dead. We want someone on the inside.”

“That won’t be an easy sell,” Bobbi said.

“Word is you’ve got a tough stomach.” He met her eyes, and she didn’t look away. “I’ve got information that can get you inside. Contacts and code phrases that will make it seem like you’ve been HYDRA all along.”

She cocked her head at him, and he reminded himself that this woman had a reputation as one of SHIELD’s finest interrogators. “And where has all this come from?”

“Where do you think? Captured and turned HYDRA agents,” he evaded, and she nodded slowly.

“How do we know I’m not walking into a trap, then? Designed specifically to catch someone like me?”

“You don’t,” he lied. “You might have to fight your way out.”

“Sounds like just your cup of tea, Bobbi,” Hartley said cheerfully, and Morse laughed.

“You’re not wrong there, Iz. All right, Rumlow, I’ll bite. Where’s this lab, over here?”

“No, back in the States. Chicago. I have travel documents for both of you,” he offered thick packets. “Use your own if you want, but I can guarantee these ones are clean. Coulson’s hacker made them just before I left.”

“Made them, just like that?” Hartley asked, a little skeptical. But Morse nodded and picked up the packets.

“Even if they’re a little sketchy, it’s probably better than what we have,” Morse said, looking over the initial pages.

“I promise you, it’s not sketchy at all,” Brock reassured them. “She’s the same hacker who wiped out all traces of her team after the SHIELD database was dumped into the public sector. She’s been methodically doing the same for other agents we know can be trusted. You can be sure that these will work as good as the real thing.”

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Morse said after eyeing him for a moment.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Brock said cheekily, grinning.

“Uh huh. Can’t wait to meet this girl,” Hartley chuckled. “Alright, we’ll make travel plans. I might have to skip about a bit to find Hunter and Idaho.”

“I’d like to get into the area where this lab is,” Morse said thoughtfully. “Scope things out before getting inside.”

“We have a little time,” Brock agreed. “We’ll need to get you another identity most likely, anyway. And make sure you’ve got the mannerisms down, to keep your cover tight.”

Morse nodded. “How soon?”

“Soon as we can. The earlier you hook up with them, the more likely they are to believe you were HYDRA the whole time.”

She smiled, looked at Hartley. “You might want to look up Mack too, Iz. I’ve no doubt Coulson could use a mechanic of his caliber.”

Something unspoken passed between the two women, and Hartley shrugged. “I’ll give him a shout. See if he’d like to join Coulson’s SHIELD.” She pushed back from the table they were all sitting around. “Guess we’d better go pack then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hartley’s contacts proved to be all in the States already when she put out feelers, so the three of them flew back together. Coulson came to meet them - he didn’t want to take the two women to the Playground just yet, a decision of which Brock thoroughly approved. If Morse was burned inside HYDRA, the last thing they needed was her knowing where the base was.

“Come on back to base for a few days once Morse is in place,” Phil told Brock as the two of them walked back towards Phil’s car. ”Skye’s keen to see you.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I miss her, too.”

“This is necessary work, you know,” Phil said. “And I really do appreciate you doing it.”

Brock nodded. “Anything going on that I need to know about?”

Phil shook his head. “Fitz has come out of his coma. He’s - pretty damaged.”

“Ah, hell,” Brock shook his head. That explained the sorrow he’d been feeling from Skye for the last couple of days. He knew she was very fond of the young engineer, thought of him as the brother she’d never had. “I’m sorry, Coulson. I know he was an integral part of your team.”

“So was Ward. Talking of whom,” Coulson turned to face him, “we’re having issues. He’s not talking, not even now that fractured larynx has healed up. He says that he’ll only talk to Skye. And while May and Trip reckon they can handle him, frankly I’m not so sure, considering what you told me about HYDRA enhancements. I don’t want to risk them.”

“You want me to break him down for questioning,” Brock murmured. Inwardly, he was raging at the news that Ward was still trying to get to Skye. He tried to tamp it down, not to let it become so strong an emotion that Skye would pick up on it, but he could already feel her concern.

“I know you’re capable of it,” Phil met his eyes squarely.

“And I’d rather that than let Skye anywhere near him again.” Brock sighed. “You know I’ll do it, but I want Skye kept well out of the way. She doesn’t need to see that.”

“Of course,” Phil agreed immediately. Brock smiled slightly at how protective Coulson was of Skye; almost as much as he was.

“Alright. I should be back in a few days; if I read the reports right, Morse is a pretty quick study but I don’t want to take chances with her either.”

Coulson nodded. “I’d prefer to minimize risks myself. I know that this kind of undercover work is part of the job, but I hate putting any of our people in more danger than is needed.”

“Understood, sir.” Brock nodded. If not for Skye, he’d go in himself... but if not for Skye, he’d probably already _be_ there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye sat by Fitz’s bedside, tablet in hand and laptop on a table beside her. Her friend and almost-brother still slept a lot, recovering, and Skye didn’t like to leave him alone. She remembered all too well the boredom and loneliness of being stuck in a med-pod by herself and resolved that Fitz wouldn’t suffer through that if she could help it.

She’d come here right away after cleaning up from her training with May. She could work just as well here as in the office Coulson had assigned her. And if her eyes sometimes lingered on Fitz longer than strictly necessary… well, she didn’t think anyone would hold it against her.

Her phone lit up beside her; it was on silent, but the lights caught her eye anyway. She picked it up and smiled at the message from Brock.

_I should be home sometime tomorrow evening, sweetheart._

_Good. I miss you._ she sent back.

_I know. I miss you too._ Though their bond was weaker when they were so far apart, he still seemed lonely to her. She closed her eyes and focused on how much she loved him, on letting him feel it, until her sense of him perked up a bit.

_Can’t wait to see you. And I’m sure Jemma will be glad of an excuse to kick me out of Fitz’s hospital room._ Jemma was, of course, fussing over Fitz every bit as much as she had over Skye. Perhaps even more; Skye thought she was feeling guilty about Fitz’s condition.

_I know you’re worried about him, sweetheart. Just be sure to take care of yourself, too._

_I am. I sleep in my own room at night - or sometimes yours - and I train with May in the mornings. I just remember how lonely it was in the med-pod all by myself and I don’t want to see Fitz deal with that on top of everything else._ A few minutes later she felt a wave of sympathy and support from Brock before her phone lit up again.

_You have a good heart, Skye. Take good care of your friend for now, and I’ll be home to take care of you soon._

Skye smiled. _I’ll hold you to that. Travel safe._ She was really looking forward to having him back with her again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a good thing, Brock mused, that Bobbi Morse was so very good at her job. They’d set up dead drops and safe retreats in no time flat, and Morse had obviously trained her memory to the point of near-photographic recall. He didn’t need to drill her in the code phrases, she’d parrot them back to him after only being told once. She memorised lists of names, recognised faces he showed her on Coulson’s tablet.

“You’re good,” he said quite admiringly. “Do you ever forget anything?”

Her smile was a little haunted. “Not really. I remember some things I wish I didn’t.”

He had that problem too, so he only nodded. “All right. Well, I think you’re ready. There’s nothing more I can teach you, anyway.”

She smirked a little smugly before offering her hand. “Thank you, Rumlow. I’m not sure that I could have done this without your information. How long were you undercover inside HYDRA?”

He blinked. He’d never said that he had been. And Morse’s eyes widened.

“You weren’t undercover, were you? You actually were HYDRA.”

Brock sighed. “Let’s just say that I saw the light, Morse.”

“Your soulmate?”

“You are much too perceptive for your own good.”

She laughed quietly. “My ex-husband always said that exact same thing.”

He watched her walk away, shaking his head. An interesting woman. He was quite looking forward to meeting the infamous ex now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **We thought it might be interesting to use Brock to bring the ‘new’ group into Coulson’s team. Of course, he has no idea that their loyalties already lie elsewhere...**


	18. Yours, Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Skye seek to reaffirm their bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter occur in the season break between seasons 1 and 2._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%208_zpsmkjhyg7d.jpg.html)

As he’d promised Skye, Brock was back on base around dinnertime the next evening. After checking in briefly with Coulson his priority, of course, was Skye. And he had a feeling he knew where she was.

Brock let himself into the medical wing; the first person he encountered was Jemma. “Oh, hello Brock,” she greeted him with a smile. “So good to see you back.”

“Evening, Jemma,” he answered, returning her smile as well.

“I presume you’re looking for Skye?” she asked, her expression cheerful but her eyes giving away her tension.

He nodded. “Yeah. She told me she’s been sitting with Fitz a lot.”

“She has.” Brock couldn’t quite tell if there was disapproval in her tone or not.

“I know she has no cause to doubt the quality of your care, Jemma,” he said lightly, his tone reassuring. “She just knows how lonely it can be when a person is recovering, and since her work is considerably more portable than most…”

“Oh!” Jemma blinked, clearly not having considered that angle. “Fitz is still mostly sleeping. But when he’s awake, he’s often confused. Easily frustrated. It’s not good for him to get upset right now.”

“But at least he knows the people around him care about him,” Brock said soothingly. “I’ll see if I can get Skye to come have dinner; leave you two alone for a while, hmm?”

“Oh, um, well…”

He chuckled at her stuttering and winked before heading towards the only side room with a light on.

“...so, that’s why I have a new shiny bracelet,” Skye said as Brock paused in the doorway. He saw that Fitz was awake and seemed to be listening to Skye, though his eyes weren’t entirely focused.

“Knock, knock,” Brock spoke up from beside the open door.

Skye’s eyes lit up as she turned to look over her shoulder and saw him. “Brock!” She smiled brightly at him for a moment before turning back to Fitz. “You remember my soulmate, right?”

“Y-yes,” Fitz stuttered, his eyes shifting to the doorway and focusing slowly. “A-agent. Str…” Brock kept his frown internal but it was sad to see the bright young engineer Skye talked so happily about having difficulties speaking.

Fortunately, Skye picked up on what he was trying to say. “STRIKE Team, yeah. Well, back when there was one.”

“H-hello,” Fitz greeted Brock haltingly and Brock moved to stand beside Skye; Fitz’s eyes tracked his movement at least, which Brock hoped was a good sign.

“Good to see you awake,” Brock said with a smile. Fitz just nodded, looked from him to Skye.

“You should go,” he managed to get out. “Be,” he waved his right hand in an encompassing gesture. “Long time no see.”

“It has been,” Brock agreed amiably, “which is why I was hoping I could steal Skye away from your company and persuade her to come have dinner with me. Since it’s occurred to me that I’ve been very remiss in romancing my soulmate and I’ve never actually taken her out to dinner.”

Skye laughed at that, a little surprised, and Fitz cracked a smile as well.

“Go. Have a nice time,” he told Skye. “I’m okay.”

“Jemma’s gonna come sit with you soon anyway,” Brock told him, and was a bit surprised to see Fitz’s face tighten, though the young engineer only nodded slightly.

“Where are we going?” Skye asked.

“There’s a nice place about fifteen minutes from here, country house hotel. I booked us a table. Why don’t you go put on something nice?” He hesitated a moment before saying quietly, “I never did get to see you wear that pink dress.”

Skye laughed. “It got trashed when I had to jump out of a window into a swimming pool. I’ll find something else, though.” She reached up to kiss his cheek. “Won’t be long. You want to keep Fitz company until Jemma gets back?”

“Sure,” Brock shrugged, taking a seat. Once Skye had slipped out of the room, he looked at the younger man and grinned. “Now you’re not being smothered by female attention, is there anything you need that you might not want to talk to a girl about? Latest issue of _Playboy_ or anything?”

Fitz actually chuckled, shook his head. “No. Th-thanks, though. Very k-kind.”

“Hey,” Brock said, meeting his eyes steadily. “This team thinks the world of you. I’ve heard all about how you were prepared to sacrifice your life to give Jemma a fighting chance to escape that med pod. You’re a hero, Fitz, and anything I can do for you, you just let me know.”

Fitz nodded again, deeply moved by Brock’s sincerity. “M-make Skye happy,” was all he said.

Brock grinned. “That was already in the plans,” he answered, chuckling.

“Skye’s s-special,” Fitz said, his expression still serious. “Been h-hurt. Too m-much. Sh-should be safe with y-you.”

Brock wasn’t sure if he should be amused or startled by the young engineer’s version of a “don’t hurt my sister” talk. But he held up his hands in a surrendering motion. “She will be safe with me. I will do everything possible to be certain I never hurt her. She’s my soulmate; what hurts her hurts me too. I just want her to be safe and happy. Like you do.”

“Good.” Fitz nodded decisively.

“If you need some space, I can keep Skye occupied more while I’m here,” Brock offered. “She doesn’t want you to be alone in here; but she might not realize if she’s going overboard. She hated being stuck in the med-pod on the Bus.”

Fitz shook his head. “I know. I l-like her co-com-company. She still t-talks like she did b-before.”

Brock nodded slowly, understanding better Fitz’s reaction to Jemma sitting with him, and Jemma’s attitude when he first arrived. “Her behavior hasn’t changed from before all this. I get that. I take it some others have?” It wasn’t really a question, but he asked anyway.

Fitz just nodded, his eyes darting towards the main room where Jemma probably still was, then back to Brock.

“They’ll relax when you’re back on your feet, Fitz,” Brock reassured him. “It’s just a matter of time.”

Fitz smiled slowly and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” Fitz opened his mouth to say something else when he paused, his eyes shifting to focus slowly over Brock’s shoulder. When he didn’t say anything, just got that slow smile on his face again, Brock turned around to look as well.

Skye paused in the doorway, dressed and ready to go out. Her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders and she’d added a hint of makeup, mostly to highlight her eyes. She wore a sleeveless dress with bright splashes of colour, a narrow belt showing off her tiny waist.

She looked about seventeen.

“Oh God, everyone’s going to think I’m your father,” Brock suddenly realised, dismayed, “or that I’m a dirty old man.”

He heard Fitz choke with laughter behind him, but his eyes were on Skye’s face. She smiled softly and shook her head at him, approaching to take his hands in hers. “Everyone will think I’m the lucky one, Brock.” Reaching up for a kiss, her lips clung softly to his until Fitz stuttered out;

“Guys, I’m really n-not keen on w-w-watching.”

Skye giggled and pulled back, walking to Fitz’s side and bending to kiss his cheek. “Yes, big brother.”

Fitz’s smile at that would have warmed the coldest heart. “Have a g-good time. Don’t…”

“Don’t do anything you wouldn’t? That leaves me oh so much leeway,” Skye teased, making him smile again, and then she linked her hand with Brock’s and tugged him gently towards the door.

Skye hadn’t actually been outside the Playground since they arrived, and she looked around with interest as Brock drove. “Where is this place, exactly?”

He glanced at her with a grin. “What, you didn’t ask? It’s not like you to be so incurious.”

“Well excuse me for having been a _little_ bit busy,” she made a face at him.

“Virginia. Not that far from Charlotte.” He returned his attention to the road. “It’s a good location; reasonably close to both New York and DC while being fairly rural and hard to find. Peggy Carter chose well.”

“Did you know her?” Skye asked curiously, realising that he probably joined SHIELD before Director Carter retired.

“Met her a couple of times when I was first with STRIKE. She was a terrifying old lady, a real ball-breaker. I’ve seen the pictures of her in her heyday, though; I’m not surprised Rogers was so head over heels for her.”

“Was he really?” Skye said, fascinated. “The history books always make it sound as though she was some kind of Cap groupie, but considering what I’ve learned about her since I joined SHIELD, she really doesn’t sound like the type.”

“From everything I’ve heard, it was rather the other way around. Cap told a few stories of how badass she was back in the day. The Howling Commandos considered her to be one of their own; they were all over wartime Europe smashing up HYDRA bases and Carter was right there in the thick of it shooting bad guys.”

Skye smiled. “You should tell Jemma about that. She’s got a huge girl crush on Peggy Carter. Mainly because she’s English and such a legend in SHIELD, I think.”

“Any woman could do worse than take Peggy Carter for a role model,” Brock said solemnly and honestly. He turned the car then; down a broad driveway lined with chestnut trees, and drove them towards the hotel. “We’re here.”

“Here” turned out to be a beautiful old country manor, clearly converted into a restaurant and hotel with a careful eye to maintaining the old-world feel of the building. Skye blinked at it, then looked down at herself. “Are you sure I’m not going to be under-dressed? I feel like I should be wearing a full-length gown or something, not a cute sundress.”

Brock chuckled as he let himself out of the car, circling around to join her on the other side as she stepped out. “You look gorgeous, Skye. I promise, you’re not under-dressed at all. If it were something to be concerned about, I would’ve told you before we left.” He was wearing a shirt and tie with dress slacks, but his battered leather jacket over it made him look more casual. And ridiculously handsome, in Skye’s opinion.

She smiled up at him and nodded. “Okay. I trust you, Brock.” She slid her hand into his and let him lead her to the restaurant door. Stepping inside, the place had a homey feel despite the highly polished wood paneling and thick, plush carpet. The staff was genuinely friendly and soon they were tucked away in a corner at a table partially hidden from the others by curtains clearly intended to allow diners feel private. Theirs wasn’t the only such table, but it was the only one in a corner by the window.

It didn’t escape her notice, either, that Brock settled her into the corner chair, putting himself between her and the rest of the room. She wondered if he even realized he was doing it and decided not to ask right at that moment. He’d promised to take care of her, and for the moment she was content to let him.

Skye’s eyes went wide when she opened the menu and caught sight of the prices. She looked up at him and opened her mouth, but he shook his head. “Order whatever you’d like, Skye. Don’t worry about it.”

“But…”

He shook his head, smiling gently at her. “It’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” she finally agreed, returning her attention to the menu. He chuckled softly to himself and made a quick decision for himself. Then he sat back, just content to watch her. She bit her lip lightly while perusing the options, and he couldn’t help but smile at how adorable she looked.

“What?” she asked lightly, looking up from her menu and catching the slightly goofy smile on his face. It lit up his eyes, and she took a moment to appreciate how good he looked with such a warm expression.

“Nothin’,” he answered easily. “Just glad to be here with you.”

She smiled back and set her menu down on the table. Reached her hand across the table and smiled brighter when he took it. “Thank you for this. It’s really nice to be just a regular couple for a little while.”

“I should’ve done this a lot sooner. But you’re welcome, Skye.” He might have said more, but the waitress approached then. They placed their orders, and she promised to be right back with their drinks - a beer for Brock, the house’s private stock brew, and a glass of wine for Skye.

Dinner was delicious, the food as good or better than anything Skye had ever eaten. Brock limited himself to just the one beer and she had just a couple of glasses of wine, but it had been quite some time since she had felt able to let her guard down enough to drink alcohol, and it went straight to her head. A little giggly, she leaned against Brock as they headed back to the car afterwards, enjoying the comforting warmth of his steadying arm around her.

“You’re hilarious when you’re drunk,” Brock murmured laughingly as they reached the car and he had to help her into the passenger seat.

“I’m not that drunk,” she gave him sultry eyes, grabbed the lapels of his jacket and tugged him down towards her for a hungry kiss. “Not drunk enough that I don’t know what I want.”

“Yeah?” he pulled back, leaned against the door frame and looked down at her. “And what’s that, sweetheart?”

“I want our bond back at full strength. I thought it would feel right again once I was close to you, but - it doesn’t. I still can’t feel you properly.” Her eyes were huge and dark as she stared up at him.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I thought that too.” It had been almost physically painful to be so close to Skye and not truly know what she was thinking. The bond was still there, but it seemed that time apart weakened it, not so much the miles that had been between them.

“So you know what you’re going to have to do,” Skye murmured, her eyes very bright. “You’re going to have to bend me over the bed and fuck me so our soulmarks meet again.”

Brock swallowed. “Oh god, baby, I want that more than anything in the world right now.”

“So why are we still here?”

He was grateful that there were no police patrols on the way back to the Playground, because he drove at well over the speed limit all the way there. And on arrival, Skye wasn’t walking fast enough in her high heels to suit him, so he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his room, almost running, ignoring Trip’s laughter as they passed him in the corridor.

Kicking the door shut behind him, he set Skye on her feet. Her arms were wound tightly around his neck and she didn’t let go, so he kissed her hungrily. The physical contact felt so good after their enforced separation, and he felt the bond slowly start to strengthen again. Skye moaned into his mouth and he knew she could feel it too. He ran his hand up her thigh - and gasped.

“Skye, you’re not wearing panties!”

She gave a sultry chuckle. “Only took you all evening to notice.”

“Fucking hell, baby!” He nearly tore her dress in his urgency to get it off her, moaned with hunger as his fingers dipped between her thighs and found her dripping.

Frantic with need, Skye just turned her back on him, bent over and put her hands on the bed, casting an inviting look back over her shoulder at him. “Make me yours again, Brock. Please, I need you to.”

Fumbling in his haste, Brock all but tore his shirt and tie off. Cursed at his uncooperative belt buckle as he finally managed to get it free and shed his pants as quickly as possible. Braced over the bed as she was, still in her heels, her hips were at almost exactly the right height and entering her was ridiculously easy, even aching hard as he was. Once fully inside of her he paused, both of them groaning together as the renewed contact solidified their bond again.

Skye cried out when his arms wrapped around her, one hand finding her breast and the other delving between her legs to stroke her clit. He held still inside her for several long moments, keeping their bodies in full contact while their pleasure surged between them through the bond. He didn’t start to move until she started rocking her hips just slightly. “Please, Brock, fuck me,” she begged for him. “Fuck me _now_.”

Unable to deny her, especially when he could feel her passion and her need so strongly, he began to move slowly, pulling nearly all the way out and then pressing back in deep with firm strokes. She moaned again, rocking to meet him; pressing harder against him, trying to encourage him silently to move faster, harder.

Brock had almost forgotten, with the slow weakening of their bond, just how powerful it was at full strength. Knowing he was right on the edge of coming, he wrapped one arm around her hips to support her and pinched her clit in time with his thrusts into her slick channel. Skye threw her head back and screamed, arching in his arms even as her passage clamped down around him. He thrust twice more before the power of her climax triggered his and he groaned as he came, her fluttering muscles milking every last drop out of him.

Skye’s arms gave out and she would have collapsed beneath him if not for his hold. He slid his arms up, straightening her gently with her back fully against his chest. Then he settled them on the bed before allowing himself to truly relax. “Fuck, beautiful.”

She giggled, and he gasped at how that felt with his cock still inside her. “I thought we just did. Unless you mean again?”

“In a few minutes, once I catch my breath, little minx,” he rumbled into her ear. Then he bent his head to nibble gently along her shoulder. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you too. I’m glad you’re back.” He knew that she meant in her head, through the bond, as much as she did physically. She shifted her hips away gently, causing his now-softened cock to slide out of her, then rolled over to face him. Her lips sought his and she kissed him deeply, lovingly. “I missed how safe I feel, being fully bonded to you. How right it feels being in your arms, feeling you in my heart.”

Brock chuckled. “Is that the loneliness or the wine talking, sweetheart?” he teased her playfully. “You’re not usually this sentimental.”

“I’ve never really trusted myself enough to anyone to _be_ sentimental,” she answered. “Until you, anyway.”

He was silent for a moment, and Skye was reminded that he talked about his childhood even less than she did. And then he kissed her softly and said;

“That’s just one more thing we have in common, sweetheart.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Advantage of separation from your loved one? Hot reunion sex ;)**
> 
>  


	19. Secrets and Manipulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock's job gets busy, and he and Skye share some secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter occur in the season break between seasons 1 and 2._
> 
> **_Warning for possible triggers: There is a scene in this chapter that involves (fairly mild) torture. Read on at your own risk._ **

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/43749_zpsf424fc5a.jpg.html)

They didn’t get to stay close together for long. The very next day, Phil sent Brock out again, to go check Morse’s dead drops and get in touch with Hartley and a few others. He was very surprised when Skye was the one who came to meet him a couple of days later, to collect Morse’s intel.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” he asked, genuinely surprised to see her out of the Playground.

“Well, May says there’s no one better to teach me spy tradecraft than you,” she grinned up at him. “And I have a mission from Phil, too. There’s someone I need to introduce you to.”

‘Someone’ turned out to be Mike Peterson. Also known as Deathlok. The cyber-soldier seemed to have a genuine fondness for Skye, too, threatening Brock not at all in jest that he’d better never hurt her.

“He’s my soulmate, Mike,” Skye assured her friend quietly. “He has no intention of hurting me. And if he did, I’d know.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Skye,” Mike said with a hint of a smile. “But I’m fairly sure I’m not the only one to say something like that to him, soulmate or not.”

Brock chuckled and nodded and Skye just laughed. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” She spun around and winked at Brock, her tone playful. “Say, did you get a ‘treat her right’ speech from Captain America too?” She spun back to look at Mike. “Captain Rogers totally volunteered to ‘chaperone’ for us when May didn’t want to leave us alone, the first time we met,” she told him laughingly.

“I didn’t have to get the speech from Cap,” Brock said, still chuckling at how excited and chatty Skye was. “I promised him right off the bat that I’d treat you right.”

Mike just watched the by-play, amused. When Skye left the room to go get the files she had for Mike from Phil, he turned serious eyes on Brock. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy. As long as it stays that way, I think we’ll get along fine.”

“She’s got a lot of powerful people who care about her,” Brock said, his look holding only respect for a fellow soldier-and-HYDRA-experiment. “She’s good at that, seems to me. But she’s right; I could never hurt her. She’s so much a part of me that it would be like cutting out my own heart.”

With a nod, Mike turned away again just as Skye came back. “Here you go,” she said, handing him a flash drive. “That’s the latest from AC. So between that and introducing the two of you, my work for today is done. So, want some coffee?”

“Coulson wanted us introduced specifically?” Mike asked.

“Yep. I think Brock is likely to be another point of contact for you. He’s certainly out of the base more often than I am, or Coulson is for that matter.”

They chatted with Mike for a while longer, and Skye convinced him to stay for dinner. When he got up to leave, Skye got up too. And while she didn’t hug him, she rested her hand on his arm for a moment; to Brock it seemed like that was the most intimate touch the super-soldier allowed himself anymore.

“So,” Brock slid his arm around Skye once Mike was gone, “are you staying the night?”

Skye smiled coquettishly. “Coulson said I didn’t need to come back until morning, yes. He said something about you coming back with me.” Her eyes shuttered and she looked down, and he could feel her tensing up, both physically and emotionally. “I think he wants you to help him question Ward.”

“He said something about that, but then he sent me out again. He’s not getting anywhere?”

Skye shook her head, leaning against his chest, still not looking at him. “Ward’s insistent that he wants to talk to me. That he’ll _only_ talk to me. He keeps telling Coulson that there’s something important that he has to tell me, something that I really need to know, and that’s all he’ll say.”

A low growl rumbled in Brock’s chest, and she petted his arm gently, trying to ease the rage she could feel building in him.

“I really wish Coulson had let me kill the bastard back at Cybertek,” Brock muttered. “I only let him live because he’d been close to Garrett, might have some information I didn’t. But if he’s not fucking sharing it, then he’s just a damned waste of oxygen. I’m not having him trying to torment you, drip poison in your ear. You stay away from him, Skye.”

“Believe me, I do not want to go down there,” Skye shuddered slightly. “Bad enough that I can see him on the monitors. He’s weird, Brock. Really, very odd. Every morning, he wakes up at precisely five-thirty, starts exercising. But he has no way to know what time it is; there’s no clock, no windows, no change in the light. It’s really freaky.”

Brock was silent, and she leaned back to look at his face. “I can feel you worrying about something. What is it?”

He sighed, hugged her tighter for a moment, and then drew her gently over to sit on the bed beside him. “I guess I should tell you about it. I told Coulson, told him what to look for if I - if I started to act oddly.”

“Okay,” Skye said slowly, “you’re suddenly starting to really frighten me.”

“It frightens me too, baby. The thought that I might hurt you if…” he shook his head. “I want to believe I could never hurt you. But the fact is that the enhancement process that HYDRA used on me and Ward, it had side effects. I don’t know if it was in any way related to that drug Garrett took that drove him crazy, but…”

“You’re saying some of the other enhanced soldiers went crazy?” Skye whispered in horror.

He hesitated, shrugged finally. “Most of them. Some lost it within a few days, they got - put down. That’s what I meant when I said not everyone survived the process. The injections themselves didn’t kill them. HYDRA put them down when they lost their minds.”

“Oh my God,” Skye’s hands started to shake. “What about - those who didn’t lose it straight away?”

He shrugged, unable to meet her eyes. He could clearly feel her horror, her pity - her fear for him. “Some of them seemed perfectly normal, or close enough to it. Rollins, my second-in-command at STRIKE - he got vicious. He was already a tough sonuvabitch, but after the enhancement he seemed to take pleasure in inflicting pain. In killing. It suited HYDRA just fine so they didn’t do anything about it. Ward - he was already a quiet sort, but he got even quieter. I’m somehow not surprised that he’s turned obsessive-compulsive. What really worries me is that his obsession has apparently focussed on you. He’s dangerous, Skye. Very dangerous, and it worries me that Coulson apparently isn’t handling him right. So yes. I’ll be glad to come back to the Playground and use my skills to find out what he knows.”

He was talking about torture, Skye knew. But she could also tell that despite his words, he didn’t take pleasure in the idea, wouldn’t truly enjoy making Ward suffer. Or, not much. His rage at Ward, and fear that she would somehow fall victim to Ward’s madness, was also clear.

Snuggling closer, Skye hugged Brock tightly. “You’re not mad,” she whispered, because the deeply buried fear that she was just beginning to feel in his mind needed reassuring first. “You’re not. I’d know. Whatever they did to you, you’re stronger than that. _We’re_ stronger than that.”

“Sometimes,” he whispered against her hair, “I think you’re the only thing that keeps me from going mad. From going on a rampage, needing to be put down like a rabid dog.”

Skye shook her head. “It’s me who should be worried. After Garrett and the GH-325…” she stopped suddenly, realising that this was neither the time nor the place to be talking about this particular subject. But she also realized suddenly that he _needed_ to know; this wasn’t something that could be kept between her and Phil anymore. “You know what? I’ll tell you, but not here. I need to get Phil’s permission first too.”

“GH… is that the stuff that made Garrett nuts?” he asked, unfamiliar with the name.

“Yes,” she confirmed; no point in denying it, as he would know if she tried to lie. The same way she would know if he did. “There’s more to it than that, but I need to talk to Phil first. If it were about me, I would just tell you. But it’s bigger than that.”

Brock nodded. “Alright, sweetheart. I know you’re telling the truth, and while we agreed not to lie to each other we both know there’s no way to avoid some secrets in an organization like SHIELD.” He stroked her hair soothingly, reassuring her of his trust silently as well as verbally.

Skye sighed and relaxed again, relieved that he wasn’t going to push the issue. “Tell you what; while you’re doing whatever you have to do with Ward, I’ll try to talk to Phil. I don’t like keeping things from you, and I’d really rather you knew anyway.”

“Works for me,” Brock agreed readily. “It keeps you well out of Ward’s way.”

She smiled and leaned into him, her lips tracing softly against his throat. “I don’t want to talk about Ward anymore. And I don’t want _you_ thinking about HYDRA anymore. At least not for tonight.”

“Mmm. And what would you rather think about?” he asked, snaking his arms around her waist and pulling her into his lap.

“You. Us. Strengthening our soulbond.” She smirked, a teasing glimmer in her eyes. “You fucking me into the mattress.”

“Little minx,” he growled playfully at her, before pushing her down on said mattress and covering her with his body. “You do have the most delightful ideas sometimes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrived at the Playground the next day without incident. Trip greeted them cheerfully when they got off the plane, teasing Skye about being on her own two feet this time. She just laughed, knowing that Trip didn’t mean anything serious with his banter.

Skye dropped her overnight bag in the lounge area and headed for Coulson’s office with just her laptop case - and the files from Morse. Brock followed her readily, figuring he should probably check in before heading down to the Vault.

“Skye, Rumlow,” Coulson greeted them as he let them into the office. “I trust your mission was successful?”

“Yes,” Skye confirmed. “I gave Mike the files, and he and Brock got to know each other a little. And here.” She handed over the info collected from Morse’s drop site.

“Thank you.” He transferred his attention to Brock next. “I take it that Skye let you know about the little _problem_ we’re having downstairs?”

“Yes, sir. I understand you’d like me to have a few words, among other things, with Ward.”

“Indeed,” Coulson confirmed. “He’s being rather uncooperative. Insists that he’ll only speak to Skye; neither she nor I have any desire to indulge him. Worst case scenario, if I have to send her down there I thought I’d send you with her. But I thought we’d see how you do with him first.”

Brock nodded, grinning tightly. “Who are you sending down with me to control the screens?” he checked.

“May,” Phil met his eyes, and Brock nodded. She was probably the best choice. She wouldn’t flinch at anything he had to do.

“Well, if you want to give me about thirty minutes, sir, you should be able to come down and ask any questions you like. I should have him ready by then.”

“Thirty minutes, you don’t think that’s a little optimistic? I gave May two hours with him and we got nothing,” Phil said, before he thought better of it.

Brock paused, halfway out the door, his face in shadow. “She doesn’t understand what he really is. What I am. I know how HYDRA built us up, I know how to tear him down. Thirty minutes will be plenty, Coulson. Believe me.”

Skye and Phil looked at each other once the door had closed. Phil gestured vaguely, pointed at his head. “Will you feel what he…”

“No. We can shut each other out if we have to. He’s better at it than me,” Skye admitted, “but neither of us can sustain it for long.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock was extremely glad that he was able - with effort - to shut Skye out of his mind, even if only for a short time. He really didn’t want her to know just how much satisfaction he was deriving from beating Ward to a pulp. He’d asked May to opaque the screen and turn off the cameras once he went in with Ward; she raised her brows at him.

“He’s not restrained in there. If he gets a weapon away from you he could kill you.”

Brock snorted. “I’m not in the least bit worried about him. But you don’t need to see it. Trust me, May. I know you’ve got a strong stomach, but you don’t _want_ to see this.”

She nodded briefly, and the screen hummed back up behind him and turned opaque as requested.

Ward was on his feet by the far wall, just staring at him. “ _You_ ,” he said quietly.

“Me, that’s right. How’re you doing, Grant? Food all right?”

“Company could be better.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that you’ve been asking for Skye.” Brock slipped a hand inside his jacket, brought out a shockstick and thumbed it on. “Let’s make one thing very clear here before I even get started. She’s _mine_. And you’re never going to see her again.”

Ward’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl, and he rushed forward, hands extended. Brock let him come, and at the last instant pivoted away and slammed him face first into the wall, giving him a quick shot of the shockstick to the spine for good measure.

“Do you dream of her?” he hissed in Ward’s ear. “Think about her skin, so soft, and those lovely dark eyes? She’s so sweet in bed. Makes the most beautiful sounds as I fuck her.”

Ward sobbed. “Don’t speak of her like that!” he wrenched back, but Brock was too quick for him, tripping him to the floor and kneeling on his shoulders.

“Skye was never yours. And she never will be. You should hear the way she cries out my name when she’s close to coming.”

“No,” Ward sobbed, “no, no, no.”

“Maybe I’ll bring you a recording. Would you like that?” He put the tip of the shockstick into Ward’s armpit, thumbed it on. Ward screamed with agony, but Brock suspected it was more from the thought of Skye in Brock’s bed than the pain. They’d been conditioned to accept physical pain, after all.  He stood. Waited for Ward to get to his feet and come at him again.

“How is this possible?” Ward groaned out as Brock out-manoeuvred him again, driving him to his knees, “how are you so much quicker than me? What did HYDRA do to you?”

“Exactly the same as they did to you and the others,” Brock shrugged. “I found out right afterwards that I was quicker, though. Rollins couldn’t get near me. None of the others, either.” He leaned down and spoke right into Ward’s ear. “I’m a better man than you, Grant Ward. And Skye knows it. She loves it. Loves how fast and how hard I take her…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coulson and May both gazed with open-mouthed astonishment as the screen hummed down. Brock was leaning casually against the wall, twirling his shockstick absently in his fingers. And Ward was sobbing at his feet, barely recognisable as the same coldly calm man who’d been in the vault thirty minutes earlier.

“Well,” Coulson said, still visibly impressed but playing it cool. “I guess this means we can ask our questions now?”

Brock nodded. “Go ahead.” He stepped calmly over Ward and moved out of the Vault. May put the screen back up after he emerged, but left it transparent. “He should be more cooperative. But if not…” He let the threat hang in the air, knowing full well that everyone in the room would get the point.

“I think we can take it from here,” Coulson said smoothly. “Your soulmate wants to talk to you, anyway.”

“I’ll find her. Thank you,” Brock answered. He glared across the barrier and saw Ward flinch as their eyes met. With a grim smile, he deliberately turned and walked away. He dimly heard Coulson and May beginning a barrage of questions, but his job was done.

He went straight to his room, feeling the need to clean up before finding Skye. He didn’t precisely feel guilty about what he’d done, because he knew it had been necessary, but the part of his conscience that sounded like Skye was just a little troubled.

She must have sensed through the bond that he wasn’t ready to talk yet, because Skye wasn’t in his room when he got there. So he stripped down and jumped in the shower. When he was finished, he had quieted his mind and felt ready to face her.

Which was good, because Skye sat on his bed with her laptop when he emerged, clean and half-dressed, from the bathroom.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted her. She looked up with a smile and lifted her chin for a kiss when he approached. She closed the laptop and set it aside, then shifted so he could sit beside her on the bed.

“Hey yourself. I hear you didn’t actually need the whole thirty minutes?”

Brock shrugged. “What I told Coulson was true. But I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s alright with you.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine.” She leaned into his side and snuggled against his bare chest when he wrapped an arm around her. “I spoke to Coulson.”

“I figured. Everything alright?”

“Yeah. He’s not terribly happy about it, but he agreed that you have a right to know.”

“Know what, sweetheart?”

Skye took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re not the only one in danger of possible side-effects from a questionable treatment,” she said quietly. “I mentioned the GH-325, which was the drug Garrett took before starting to lose his mind.” Brock nodded, listening quietly. He stroked her hair gently, just keeping her close.

“Well, the reason he took it was because he was dying. He had reason to believe that it could save him.”

“Why? Where did it come from?”

“There was a secret facility called the Guest House which was experimenting with it as a drug. It was part of a project called T.A.H.I.T.I. that was originally meant to be an emergency resource in case one of the Avengers ever died.” Skye looked up at him, her dark eyes troubled. “It’s the drug that Fury ordered to be used on Coulson, when he died. It’s what brought him back to life. But when they were developing it, the drug had horrible side-effects on the mental stability of the people who used it.”

“Okay,” Brock said slowly. “I can see why that would be a concern for Coulson.”

“When… when the Clairvoyant couldn’t find out how Coulson had been healed after dying on the Helicarrier, he ordered me shot knowing that Coulson would try to retrace those steps to find a way to save me.”

Brock swore quietly for a moment. “They used it on you, too.” His arms tightened around her, as if he could protect her from whatever side-effects might show up.

Skye nodded. “Coulson sent Fitz back to the Bus with the drug while he looked around a little further. I’m told he arrived back at the plane yelling for them not to use the drug, but it was too late. Because down there, he discovered the source of the drug.” Skye paused, then took a deep breath. “It’s made from the blood of an alien. I - we have alien DNA inside of us.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “What kind of alien? Chitauri? Asgardian?”

“Neither. Coulson said it was _blue_. He told me he asked Lady Sif about blue aliens and she said there were several types, but none of them had ever visited Earth.”

“Holy shit.” He sat silently for a moment, processing. “How many people were treated with this stuff?”

Skye shook her head. “It’s unknown. Only Fury might have an idea, and he’s dropped out of sight. Coulson didn’t really get the chance to ask him about it. He did get a report, which is pretty unpleasant reading. Memory overwriting seems to have been the only way to prevent the symptoms manifesting. That’s what they did to Coulson - even May says he’s different now. You told me that too, that you weren’t sure you knew the new Coulson. They didn’t do it to Garrett and he went completely stark raving crazy. They didn’t do it to me either.” She stopped, chewing her lip. “I don’t - I don’t know what’s going to happen. If I’m going to go mad too.”

“Maybe,” Brock said slowly after a few moments, thinking it through, “maybe it’s because of the soulmarks.”

“What?” Skye blinked.

“Look, I don’t know where the drugs I was treated with derived from. Whitehall said something about ‘an exceptional specimen’ once when I asked. It could be that they’re alien too, I’ll probably never know. But what I do know is that I was the only one of us who happened to have a soulmark - and I changed a bit more than the others did. When they tested all of us afterwards, compared our physical capabilities to the baseline results from before, mine were off the charts compared to the others. They all showed two to three hundred percent increase in strength and stamina - mine was more like a fivefold increase. I was subjected to a lot more testing while Whitehall tried to figure out why.”

“I don’t get why that would relate to a soulmark?” Skye said, puzzled.

“Not that so much, but the mental issues. As I said, most of the others went a little to a lot round the bend. And you’re telling me that this GH drug drove everyone who didn’t have their memory overwritten crazy - except you. What if it’s something to do with the marks, that before we even bonded, before we even _met_ , there was some kind of link there, something that helped us to stabilise each other?”

Skye chewed on her lip. “Or what if you’re an 0-8-4 too?” she said quietly.

“If I’m a _what_?” he blinked in astonishment. “What do you mean, _too_?”

She sighed. “I guess it’s time I filled you in on everything I learned about myself since joining SHIELD. It’s not a very nice story…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **It really was about time for a secret-reveal. Yes, this is going to affect things going forward. Of course it will.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Ward is even crazier in this AU than in AoS, but as you’ve just learned, there’s a reason for that. There’s also a reason why Brock hasn’t gone mad, and why HYDRA’s treatments changed him more than the others, but you’ll have to wait to find out what that is.**
> 
>  
> 
> **The scene here where Brock tortured Ward for information was pretty tough to write. We wanted to show that Brock doesn’t like what he had to do, but nonetheless recognised that he was the best (probably only) one who could do it.**
> 
>  


	20. A Job Well Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock's efforts bring new recruits to the Playground, and Phil makes the decision to put Jemma in undercover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter occur in the season break between seasons 1 and 2._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/sleeveless3_zps9d55055c.jpg.html)

Brock got called back to Coulson’s office later that afternoon. Phil was clutching a sheaf of papers, a slightly manic gleam in his eyes.

“You did a great job on Ward,” he said without preamble. “He spilled a lot. And we know it’s true because you already told me a fair bit of it. His information coincides with yours in every particular where they overlap.”

Brock nodded, unsurprised. He’d told Ward that the second Coulson caught him in a lie, Brock would be sent back down to the vault to punish Ward for it. And after the session that morning, Ward would never want to see Brock again in his whole life. He’d do almost anything to avoid it.

“But there were a few nuggets of new information. I’m going to need you to go back out again…”

Brock sighed inwardly. _The rewards of a job well done,_ he thought ironically.

“...and I want your recommendations on a developing situation here.”

Brock cocked his head. “Go on.”

“It’s about Fitz. Simmons is, understandably, very concerned for and protective of him, and… well, I hate to say it, considering how close they used to be, but really, he’s not doing better with her fussing over him. If anything, it’s making him worse, and Jemma’s starting to realise that.” Coulson waved a few more papers in his direction. “Morse’s intel is good, gives us a peek inside HYDRA’s top echelons, but she can’t get into the sciences side, can’t get the research data. We could really use a scientist in there too.”

“You’re thinking about putting Simmons in undercover?” Brock’s eyebrows shot up. “She’s not trained for it.”

“Which is where you come in,” Phil said steadily. “Do you think you could get her ready? Right now her head isn’t in the game here anyway. I think a new challenge, somewhere away from here, might be just what she needs. And it would give Fitz time and space to recover.”

Brock swung back and forth on his chair, thinking. “All right,” he said finally. “I’ll do it. But no one is to know outside of you, me, May and Skye, all right? Anything else could jeopardise her safety. As far as they’re all concerned, she got disillusioned with having no resources now and she left, because we’ll have no choice but to put her in as herself. Her name is too well known in scientific circles, I believe. I’ll coach her to make it believable and she can do a nice dramatic ‘I quit!’ scene with you. Do you want her to know about Morse?”

Phil shook his head. “If she thinks someone on site has her back, she might get careless. You and I both know that being frightened out of your wits is the best way to stay alive, undercover.”

“It is. It’s also the best way to do something like forget your cover story.” Brock sighed. “It’s going to take a lot of work. We’re basically going to have to do an intensive undercover ops short course.”

“I know. Think you’re up to it?”

“Skye isn’t going to like it. But yes, I think we can make it work. One thing, though; if I’m taking Jemma out of here for training, I get the final say on when she’s ready to go in,” Brock said firmly, his expression determined. “I know you need her in as quickly as possible, and I get that, but I’m not sending her anywhere if she’s just going to get caught.”

“I understand and I agree completely.” Coulson’s smile was tight. “I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t necessary.”

“I do intend to tell Skye, though,” Brock continued. “For one thing, I’m sure she’ll be by to see me at least a few times while Jemma’s getting ready. Besides, it will be good for _her_ ops training too. Maintaining someone else’s cover in the face of unknowing team members can be just as difficult.”

“Agreed. We’ll brief Simmons and May. Then you’ll go out again as normal. Simmons will have her scene and then will join you. I’ll send Skye out a few days after to see how things are going and to give you two some time together.”

Brock nodded. “About that. Did Skye tell you that our bond seems to weaken when we spend too much time apart?”

Coulson’s eyes went wide. “No, she didn’t. Everything I’ve heard about soulmates would indicate that once formed, the bond can’t be broken.”

“We talked about it a little,” Brock explained thoughtfully. “It’s all speculation, of course, but it’s also true that we don’t get much time together at a stretch. Everything _I’ve_ heard about soulmates says that most pairs are nearly inseparable after the bond is formed. For weeks, sometimes months. We haven’t had that luxury.”

“No, and I really can’t afford to give it to you right now.” Coulson sighed. “Damn.”

“Is Skye’s work portable currently?”

“She’s doing some research for me, as well as keeping an eye on some other assets and potential HYDRA operatives. So sometimes. Why?”

“Perhaps it would help our bond if we had a few days at a stretch, when we do see each other.”

Coulson considered for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Unlike our scientists, Skye doesn’t need a lab to do her work. I’m going to trust you to send her back if it’s too risky for her to stay, though.”

Brock laughed. “I’d say that’s a safe bet. And Coulson…” His expression grew serious again. “I don’t want her anywhere near Ward while I’m gone.”

“Duly noted,” Coulson said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to May and Simmons.” Brock nodded and let himself out of the office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey,” Skye peeked around the door to Jemma’s bunk room. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Jemma dredged up a smile for her friend, and Skye came and sat beside her on the bed, leaning into her and giving her a gentle nudge with her shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” Jemma glanced sideways at her. “Simmons, Jemma Simmons. Undercover agent.”

They both giggled, and then Skye leaned in closer and put her arm around Jemma’s shoulder. “I know Coulson and Brock wouldn’t put you in unnecessary danger. But you can say no, you know. AC would understand.”

Jemma surveyed her hands. “I think it’s best that I go.”

“Because it benefits the team? Because we need the information? Or is it something else?” Skye asked gently.

“Because Fitz needs to get better, and I’m not helping with that.” Jemma sighed and leaned into Skye, realizing only in that moment how much she missed curling up with Skye, Fitz and Trip to watch a movie. How much she missed contact that was friendly and comfortable. “I love Fitz. He’s my best friend, my brother. But I’m waiting for my soulmate, and he doesn’t understand that.”

Skye nodded and held Jemma closer for a moment. “I understand. I promise, I’ll look out for him as much as I can while you’re gone. I didn’t want to step on your toes, but I didn’t want Fitz to be alone in there either.” Skye shrugged and went on thoughtfully, “I never went in for the whole destiny thing, you know that. But now I’m so happy with Brock and I wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on that. For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“I think it’s best that I leave for a while. If I’m not around, perhaps Fitz will move on.”

“If I hadn’t known you have a soulmark, I’d have wondered a long time ago if you and Fitz would ever be an item,” Skye offered in a low tone, smiling a little. “You guys were almost attached at the hip for so long in the labs. And it’s awesome that you work together so well; you got so much done as a team. And now you’re learning something new.” Skye smiled.

“Yes. It will be a new challenge. But if it gets the Director information that he needs, I’m willing to take the risks.”

“I know. And I’m sure he does, too. Brock will be careful with you, though,” Skye’s voice was smoothly confident. “He won’t push you too soon or take avoidable risks with your safety. You can trust him, Jemma.”

“Oh, I know,” Jemma answered quickly. “Honestly, if I have to do this I’m glad we have him to teach me. STRIKE teams always had some of the most advanced skill sets and strictest requirements. There isn’t anyone better to learn from.”

“Gonna miss your ugly mug around here, though,” Skye hugged her tighter. “And we’ll all miss those awesome sandwiches you make.”

Jemma laughed and hugged her back. “I’ll miss you too.” She hesitated a moment. “I know I don’t have to ask you to take care of Fitz.”

“You’re right. You don’t have to ask.”

“And you take care of you, too, all right? With Rumlow not here all that much - I know it can’t be easy for you, especially with that bastard down in the Vault.” Jemma’s voice was pure venom, and Skye leaned back and looked at her.

“I won’t let Ward get to me. He’s obviously gotten to _you_ , though.”

Jemma wiped a tear from her eye. “I _hate_ him, Skye,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve never hated anyone before. It’s an awful feeling. I just want him gone, I - I wish he’d never existed!”

“You’re not on your own there,” Skye shuddered. “He’s so _creepy_. Playing along with him at Providence was the worst thing I’d ever had to do.”

“The whole thing with him being obsessed with you is so strange,” Jemma shook her head. “He knows Brock is your soulmate, he’s known almost since the first day you joined the team. How can he possibly think you’d be interested in him?”

“He’s insane,” Skye said simply. “His obsessive tendencies finally got the better of him and he fixated on me. Brock found out that Ward wanted someone from inside HYDRA to basically brainwash me because it would erase my soulmark. He could make me the perfect little wife,” she added bitterly.

“They can do _what?”_ Jemma’s eyes went wide and she took Skye’s hand in hers.

“Their brainwashing process erases soulmarks. Fortunately, they never felt the need to do it to Brock; up until meeting me he was a loyal HYDRA soldier.” Skye shrugged it off. “Learning what they would do to me for Ward was part of what got him to realize how bad things were with them.”

“I… wow, Skye, I don’t know what to say.”

Skye shrugged and smiled a little for her friend. “Brock got me through it. I’m okay. Ward doesn’t want me, not really. He wants a Stepford Wife. A perfect little fantasy. But it’s never gonna happen. Brock won’t allow it.”

“Then I just have one more reason to want Ward dead,” Jemma said decisively. “If he’s not around, he can’t get them to follow through on this.”

Skye sighed. She understood Jemma’s feelings; it was hard _not_ to hate Ward. But hating a madman didn’t really help anything. Still, Jemma’s experience and Fitz’s injury were good reasons for her feelings and Skye didn’t think she could talk her friend out of it. Instead, she simply said, “I guess it’s a good thing he’s locked up, isn’t it?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jemma took to undercover work surprisingly well. She was nervous at first, but Brock was patient, drilling her over and over until she was comfortable with the procedures, could service a dead-drop or make a handoff without giving herself away.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he told her as they worked through scenarios one day.

Jemma grimaced. “I know. But I’m getting better.”

“Not quickly enough for this. So what you have to do, instead of an outright lie, is take the truth and put a spin on it. Imagine for a moment that something’s happened; you feel nervous, you’re uncertain if your cover is blown. Someone from security starts questioning you and asking why you look nervous. What do you say?”

“I’m not nervous,” Jemma said promptly.

“No. Won’t work. You see, it’s all about the non-verbal cues. If you’re nervous, someone trained would be able to tell. Dilated pupils, shallow breaths, darting eyes - I can’t train you to hide those quickly enough. What you say is ‘Yes! I am nervous! This is all rather nerve-wracking, there are large men with guns looking at everyone menacingly!’ You see?”

Jemma nodded slowly. “That’s quite a good reason to be nervous in the circumstances, isn’t it?”

Brock nodded. “Perfectly legitimate. And because it’s partly true, it won’t be picked up on that it’s not the _whole_ truth. Lying will only buy you trouble; you have to keep your story straight. Whereas if you tell parts of the truth and an inconsistency is picked up on later, you just tell more little bits of truth to explain it, and it’s far easier to remember that than some created story of lies.” He smiled at her. “That said, I think you’re about ready.”

“I am? Oh,” Jemma looked nervous, but determined.

“Yup. Skye’s fixed all your documentation up perfectly. As far as anyone inside HYDRA will know, you’ve been working in a small private lab in Chicago since the fall of SHIELD but you’re ready to move on to bigger and better things. Plus HYDRA pay more.”

“They certainly do. Where are they getting all this money?” Jemma asked.

“I’m pretty sure that the answer includes the words _Nazi gold_ and _looted artworks_ ,” Brock said, “but that’s a matter for us to follow up, not you. You start next Monday, Agent Simmons. I’ll hang around for a week or so, but you won’t see me; HYDRA will likely surveill you for a while to make sure you are what you say you are.”

She swallowed, but nodded, and said “Thank you, Agent Rumlow.”

“Eh,” he waved a hand. “You’re welcome. You’ve been an excellent student.”

“Still, I know you’d rather be with Skye right now.”

“Absolutely true,” he grinned at her. “But the fact is that Skye will be very unhappy with me if I don’t do my absolute best to ensure your safety in there, so I don’t grudge a minute of the time spent training you. Now come on. Let’s go get some dinner.”

She smiled up at him. “I’m glad to be doing this, you know.”

“Yeah.” He held the door open for her as they left the room. “You want to tell me what’s going on with you and Fitz?”

Jemma hesitated, but then she looked up at him, at the expression of gentle concern on his face, and the words suddenly came rushing out. “He’s my best friend. He’s always been my best friend, but when we were down there on the ocean floor he told me that I was more to him. And - I can’t - you see the thing is that I have a soulmark, and I look at you and Skye and it seems so _obvious_ that anything else isn’t worth bothering with. That getting involved with Fitz would only lead to me breaking his heart, because I know that the minute my soulmate turned up I’d be off without a backward glance. Fitz looks at me differently now. Not just because of the brain damage, but - as though he expects what he told me to have changed things between us. As though I should look at _him_ differently now. And I don’t, I _can’t_.”

Brock nodded, his expression sympathetic. “You know that at some point you’ll meet the person who will really be your other half. And you’re not willing to settle for anything less.” He smiled a little. “You shouldn’t, either. Finding your soulmate will make you feel whole in ways that I don’t think anyone not bonded can understand.”

“Skye told me, a little,” Jemma said, her voice soft. “I can’t even imagine. And it seemed so hard for her, with you gone.” She bit her lip. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

Brock shrugged. “It’s alright, Jemma. I knew anyway.” Her eyes widened. “With the bond active, unless we’re blocking it intentionally, we feel most of what the other is feeling. Normally I wouldn’t talk about this, but since you’ve got a soulmark you’re likely to need to know.”

“How _interesting_ ,” Jemma enthused. “All the time?” Brock nodded. “Does anything affect it?”

“Well, we discovered by accident that time apart seems to weaken it.”

Jemma frowned. “That’s not something I’ve ever heard of. From my research, nothing should weaken a soulbond.”

“From what I understand, soulmates are usually inseparable for the first few weeks together.”

Jemma’s eyes went wide again. “Oh! And you and Skye didn’t get to do that! Oh, now I’m really sorry to have taken you away from her.”

Brock smiled. “It’s not your fault, Jemma. Coulson asked me to do this, and I agreed. Besides, she’s been coming here when she can, hasn’t she?”

Jemma nodded and smiled. “That’s true, she has. Is it helping?”

“Seems to be so far.”

Jemma had a few more questions about soulbonds, and Brock shared what he was comfortable telling her. “It’s all very intriguing,” she said, smiling. “Thank you. I appreciate hearing a first-hand perspective.”

Brock chuckled. “I’m sure Skye would’ve told you if you asked.”

“I know, but she’s been sitting with Fitz most of her free time.”

“I’m sure she would have made time for you if you asked.” Jemma sighed and looked away with a shrug.

“She’d probably understand better than any of the others, because of the soulmark thing, but I can’t help but feel that everyone’s looking at me, judging me for not being what Fitz needs right now. I just want him to get better. For everything to be like it was before.”

“He’ll get better, Jemma.” Brock rested his hand on her shoulder briefly. “He just needs time. I’ve seen guys with brain injuries before, the bends, strokes, that sort of thing. Time’s the great healer. You’ll see. One day the two of you will be FitzSimmons again, lab geniuses.” He grinned and gave her a gentle nudge. “And I’ll keep an eye out for a likely girl to set him up with.”

Jemma started to laugh. “Somehow I really don’t see you as a matchmaker.”

“You’re right; it was always Romanoff’s job to set the STRIKE guys up with likely girls. She was pretty good at it too. I like to think I picked up a few tips.”

“You worked with the _Black Widow_?” Jemma’s head turned and her mouth fell open.

“I did.” He remembered what Skye had told him about Jemma’s hero-worship of Peggy Carter, too. “And I’ve met Director Carter, as well.”

“Omigod you have to tell me all about her!” Jemma squeaked excitedly, her anxiety over Fitz and nervousness about going undercover temporarily forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock got Jemma settled and received a call from Hartley just as he was about to head back to the Playground.

“I’ve found Mack, that mechanic we talked about,” she said without preamble. “Would Coulson take him on?”

“If you vouch for him, and he passes the Lie Detector,” Brock said, “I’m sure he would. We could use a good mechanic.” _Especially with Fitz out of commission for who knew how long_ , he thought.

“I’ll bring him in then,” Hartley said cheerfully. “See you there.” She hung up abruptly, and Brock found himself grinning as he pocketed his phone. He liked Izzy Hartley. She wasn’t complicated like Morse; with Hartley what you saw was what you got. Her brisk, no-nonsense attitude was like a breath of fresh air after all the clandestine spy stuff Coulson had him doing.

He was prepared to like Mack simply because Hartley obviously thought a lot of him, and he wasn’t disappointed. The guy was huge, built like a tank, but had that gentle giant vibe going on, steady and calm. Coulson took him on immediately, and Mack passed the Lie Detector with no problems.

“Are you loyal to SHIELD?” Billy Koenig asked as the last question of the test.

“To my dying breath,” Mack answered steadily. There wasn’t the slightest blip on the monitor. Koenig looked over his shoulder and nodded to where Coulson, Hartley and Brock stood watching from behind a one-way mirror.

Coulson led the others out into the room. “Welcome back to SHIELD, Agent Mackenzie,” Coulson said, holding out his hand for Mack to shake.

“Thank you, sir,” Mack said, shaking the offered hand. Hartley grinned at him from behind the director.

“Agent Koenig will get you a lanyard, and then we’ll make sure you get a tour of the base,” Coulson went on.

They headed for Koenig’s office first. When they got there, Skye was sitting on the floor in the outer office of the communications area. Both her seldom-used office and Billy’s more frequently used one opened from there.

“Hey everybody,” she said, looking up with a smile as the group filed in. Billy led Mack straight into his office while the others waited.

“Skye, you want to play tour guide for a while?” Coulson asked with a smile.

“Sure,” she agreed. “Go do your director-ish things. I’ve got this.” She set her laptop aside but held onto her tablet - at least until Brock took it from her. He set the tablet down and swept her into his arms for a proper hello kiss. Skye almost melted.

Coulson chuckled. “So I see. Well, then, I’ll leave you all in Skye’s capable hands - once Rumlow lets her have them back.”

When Brock did release Skye, she needed a minute to catch her breath. Then she turned to the newcomers - just as Billy led Mack out of his office - with a smile. “Hello, I’m Skye,” she said.

“Isabelle Hartley,” the other woman introduced herself. The two shook hands and traded smiles. “Most of my friends and teammates call me Izzy.”

“Is that a warning or an invitation?” Skye asked, amused. Hartley had a lot of the mannerisms of  field operative, but she lacked the demeanor of most of the specialists Skye had met.

Hartley laughed. “I like you. Please, call me Izzy.”

“I can do that,” Skye agreed. Then she turned her attention up to Mack - way up.

“Alphonso Mackenzie, but everybody calls me Mack.” He held out his hand, and Skye took it.

“Pleased to meet you both. Welcome to the Playground.”

“Thank you,” Mack said.

“I’ve been here, but only briefly,” Hartley added.

“Cool. So, tour,” Skye said. “Obviously, that’s Billy’s office. Mine’s that one,” she pointed. “But I don’t spend a whole lot of time in it. This is the communications department, but there aren’t a lot of us yet.”

“What do you do, Agent Skye?” Mack asked politely.

Skye grinned. “I’m a hacker. I also do research and keep tabs on the not-so-friendly types. And please, it’s just Skye.” She led them out of the communications office and back towards the front of the base, pointing out the labs on the way past. “First stop: garage and hangar. Can I ask what you guys do?”

“I’m a field agent,” Hartley said readily. “Hand-to-hand and bladed weapons, mostly, though I know my way around firearms too.”

“Most field agents have to,” Brock commented dryly, and Hartley shot him a grin.

“I’m a mechanic,” Mack answered Skye’s question. “Mostly vehicles, but I dabble with other stuff too.”

“What, you mean like ships?” Hartley asked, laughing. “He was the chief engineer of one of SHIELD’s aircraft carriers, Skye.”

“Oh, wow. I’ll definitely have to introduce you to Fitz when he’s feeling up to it.” Skye paused, hesitating, then explained, “He is - was, I suppose - our team’s engineer before all the HYDRA stuff happened. He was injured and is only recently out of a coma. But it could do him some good to have another engineer to talk shop with. He’s super-smart; designs all kinds of tech toys for us.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” Mack said, genuinely interested.

Skye smiled brightly. “I’m glad.” They arrived at the hangar and Skye stood back, just letting everyone look around. She figured the jets and SUVs were all pretty self-explanatory. She should have figured that Mack would gravitate towards the one glaringly noticeable car, though. When Mack’s hands reached out, hovering over the bright red paint, Skye called out. “Don’t touch Lola!”

Mack jerked back, pulling his hands away as he looked up to see Skye’s amused expression and dancing eyes. “Why not?”

“Because she’s Director Coulson’s baby, and no one touches her without his express permission,” she answered, grinning.

“Think he might give me permission?” he asked hopefully, his expression one of longing.

“I don’t know. It’s possible.” Her answer was honest; not many people were allowed to touch Coulson’s prized car.

“Well,” Mack straightened up, still staring wistfully at Lola. “I guess I’ll just have to prove myself competent then, won’t I?”

They left Mack in the hangar with a couple of the other mechanics to chat to and showed Hartley the firing range and gym, the kitchen and lounge area. She’d brought a bag of stuff and Skye assigned her one of the bunk rooms to leave her things in.

“I’m meeting Hunter and Idaho in Atlanta tomorrow morning,” Hartley said with a sigh after dropping her gear off, “so I’d better get moving. It’s a long drive.”

“See you soon, Izzy,” Skye said cheerfully, and Hartley grinned at her.

“You betcha, hacker chick.”

Brock and Skye were left alone, standing in the accommodation corridor. Right outside Skye’s room, actually. She opened the door and grinned up at Brock.

“Goodness me, Agent Rumlow. Left alone together in the proximity of a bed. Whatever shall we do?”

He grinned, following her willingly, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. “Oh, I can think of a _few_ things…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I’m sure he can!**
> 
> **One of the things we wanted to address in this chapter was Jemma’s anger towards Ward. It wasn’t something that was focussed on in the series, which was why her attempt to kill him came out of left field for some people. She’d been holding on to that hate for a long time, though. And Jemma’s the type to hold a GRUDGE.**
> 
>  


	21. Team SHIELD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter and Idaho join the team, and Brock and Coulson take a trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter occur from just before the beginning of season 2, through episodes 1 and 2, and may include dialogue from those episodes._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/grey%20shirt%207_zpsl4ytrrl2.jpg.html)

Brock was actually able to stay at the Playground for a few weeks this time, Coulson making good on his promise to let him have as much time as possible with Skye. He still took day trips out to go communicate with Morse, Simmons, Deathlok and the other agents he was running as Coulson’s field agent handler, but he was back in bed with Skye every night, and could honestly say that he’d never been happier in his life.

A couple of weeks after Mack arrived, Hartley came back in with another couple of guys. The first was a dark-haired, clean-shaven man who Hartley introduced as Idaho. Skye’s impression of him was quiet but competent; Brock noted some of the telltale signs of an operative, but knew that he was primarily a merc. He’d encountered Idaho before, though not with Hartley, and knew he was a good man to have around.

The other man was _definitely_ a merc. Lance Hunter was a former British SAS officer, with sharp features and an even sharper wit. Brock was highly amused to learn from Hartley that _this_ was Morse’s ex-husband. He kept it to himself, though; mostly because most of the people on the base hadn’t even met Morse yet.

When Hunter was brought in so Billy could make him a lanyard, Skye was actually in her office for once. Fitz was happily tinkering in the lab with Mack and she figured it would be better to let them work in peace. Mack seemed to be good for Fitz. The two of them were on the same wavelength. Brock was out on one of his day-trips, so she planned to focus on Coulson’s research for a while.

“Well, hello there,” Hunter greeted her as he waited for Billy.

She looked up at the unfamiliar voice with a British accent, but a lot looser than Jemma’s proper English speech, and gave him a polite smile. She saw Izzy out in the front office and waved before returning her attention to Hunter. “Hello. You must be one of the other contacts Izzy said she was seeking out.”

Hunter nodded. “Hunter. Lance Hunter. And you are?”

“Skye,” she responded, trying not to be too distracted from the search she was running.

An eyebrow quirked and Hunter asked dryly, “Skye? That’s it?”

“Unless you want to call me Agent Skye, then yes. That’s it. No snappy codename as yet,” Skye’s tone was just as dry. She finished up the line of code and set it to run, then looked up to focus properly.

“Not much for names, are you sweetheart?”

Skye rolled her eyes. “First of all, don’t call me ‘sweetheart’ ‘cause there’s only one man who gets to do that, and my soulmate is rather the possessive sort. Secondly, not that it’s any of your business but I’m a frigging _orphan._ So no, I don’t have a last name. Deal with it.”

“Hey, easy now. I didn’t mean to give offense.” Hunter held his hands up, signaling surrender for the moment.

“Lucky for you, I’m fairly difficult to actually offend.” Skye smirked. “Welcome to the Playground.”

“What’s your specialty, then?” Hunter asked, curious.

“Computers. I’m the team hacker.”

“Handy. Never know when you’re gonna need more information than you’ve got,” he commented with a brief smile.

“I do what I can,” she answered with a grin.

“So, possessive soulmate, huh? Anyone I know?”

She grinned. “Perhaps you’ve met him. Agent Rumlow.”

Hunter backed up so fast he almost fell over his own feet. “ _What_? The terrifying dude? Stone-cold killer Rumlow is _your_ soulmate?”

“I really don’t think I want to ask why he has that reputation,” Skye said, “but yes.”

“Holy shit,” Hunter’s eyes moved over her again, but she could tell it was a more assessing stare. “And now I have the feeling that I just massively underestimated you and you’re way more dangerous than you look. Iz, help, I’m scared,” he called over his shoulder.

Hartley came in, brows raising. “What did Skye say to you? Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to make a pass at her.”

“Well, I was kind of working my way up to it when she dropped the bomb that Rumlow is her soulmate and now I’m terrified of her too.”

Skye found herself giggling at his nonsense. “I’m not scary. I’m not even a fully qualified field agent yet.”

“You don’t get to be soulmates with a guy like Rumlow without being a deeply terrifying person,” Hunter shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll just keep on being quietly terrified.”

Skye and Hartley laughed together, and Hunter smiled in a tense sort of way. “You giving them the tour, Izzy?” Skye asked when they’d calmed down.

“Yep. Wanna tag along?”

Skye just grinned. “Sure. Maybe I can prove myself harmless along the way.” She quirked an eyebrow at Hunter, then stage-whispered to Hartley, “It’s always better when they underestimate me.”

Hartley just laughed again and waited for Skye to lock down her computers before following them out of the room. Hartley introduced Idaho while Hunter muttered to himself about innocuous-looking agents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hartley and her small team were only around for a couple of days before Coulson sent them back out again. A lot of SHIELD tech was starting to turn up on the black market, sold by former agents turned rogue operators, and they really didn’t want some of the stuff out there generally available. There were far too many folks who would turn the tech to seriously bad use.

“I’ll have May service the dead drops for a few days,” Coulson said to Brock one day as they pored over reports in his office, “I need you to come on a trip with me.”

“Mm-hm, where are we going, boss?” Brock lifted his head to look at Coulson.

“London. I want to see if we can track down Agent 33 - last word we had put her there - and I want to make contact with Thor.”

A little surprised, Brock blinked. “You’re re-opening contact with the Avengers? Great idea, sir, it’s about time they learned you were still alive…” he trailed off, because Coulson was shaking his head.

“I’m not ready to do that, no. However - _you_ are also a conduit to the Avengers. You’ve worked closely with Cap, Romanoff, Barton and this new guy the Falcon. If you reach out to Cap, he’d vouch for you to Thor.”

Brock swung gently on his chair, eyes on Coulson. “And who exactly do I tell them that I’m working for, sir?”

“The new SHIELD director, who was appointed by Fury, but who is keeping his identity covert because HYDRA would just love to take him out,” Coulson responded promptly. He’d obviously thought it out already.

“All right,” Brock said after a moment. “If they have a way of contacting Fury - and I suspect Romanoff, at least, might - they can confirm that anyway. But I have the feeling that all this secrecy might come back to bite you in the ass one of these days, sir. Keeping too many secrets was how Director Fury operated, and in my opinion it’s one of the things that made it so easy for HYDRA to hide in plain sight within SHIELD all that time.”

Phil hesitated, then nodded. “Your opinion is noted, Agent Rumlow. Thank you for your advice.”

Brock sighed and got to his feet. “London here we come, then. When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning. Flying commercial, I’m afraid, so no weaponry. Here’s your cover ID,” Coulson tossed him a package. “Skye’s finest work, as usual.”

“But of course.” Brock grinned proudly. “Well at least you’ve given me time to say a proper goodbye this time, Coulson.”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” Phil rolled his eyes, “just don’t break the bed again. Our budget won’t stretch to replacing it every time you and Skye have reunion or farewell sex.”

Brock laughed on his way out the door. “Don’t worry about it, boss. Last time we broke it, I researched where Stark ordered Cap’s furniture from. I can pretty much guarantee we’re not gonna break _this_ bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks later, Coulson returned. Skye had hoped Brock would be back with him, but she didn’t have time for disappointment. She, May and Trip were sent out to back-up Hartley’s team on a risky deal. Though Skye was a little nervous about functioning as a full field operative, May assured her that she was far enough along to be able to cope.

She’d trusted May this far. There was little point in doubting her now.

_Off on an op_ , she texted Brock. _I’ll let you know when I’m back._

She’d just finished getting geared up when her phone pinged. _Be careful._

She smiled and turned off her phone. She’d take it with her just in case, but she couldn’t risk it going off at a bad time.

She didn’t remember to turn her phone back on until she was in Izzy’s room, packing up the woman’s personal things. There were no messages, but she couldn’t help but remember that Brock and Izzy had seemed friendly, if not friends. As much as she hated being the bearer of bad news, she couldn’t imagine letting her soulmate find out from anyone else.

She hit Brock’s speed-dial before she had fully made the decision to call him. It only rang a couple of times before he picked up. “Skye? Something wrong, sweetheart?” He sounded alert but as if she’d just woken him up.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I forgot the time difference.” She sighed. “Though I probably would’ve woken you up regardless.”

“What is it?” he asked, concern echoing at her through the bond as much as through his voice.

“We had some… problems on the most recent mission,” she told him softly, working to stay calm the way May had taught her. “Izzy didn’t make it, Brock. We lost her and Idaho.”

She heard him curse under his breath, but when he spoke again his voice was gentle. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, for the most part. I wasn’t there when it happened; my team is fine. I just remembered that you two were kinda friends, and I thought you should hear it from me rather than in a report. Or worse, not know at all until the next time you’re here and run into Hunter.”

“I really appreciate it, sweetheart.” His voice was soft, loving… almost enough to break through her emotional control. But she didn’t have time for tears right now. She’d wait until she had downtime - preferably with Brock there - to let some of it out.

“You’re welcome. I’ll let you go back to sleep now; I have some things to do.”

“Skye… I know May is teaching you to control your emotions, but remember that you can’t keep everything inside forever.”

She smiled a little. “I wasn’t planning to try. Just thought I’d wait for you; you’re the best emotional reliever that I know.”

He chuckled and she could just picture him nodding. “Okay. You get your work done and I’ll see you soon. I love you, Skye.”

“I know. I love you too, Brock. Be careful out there.”

“I promise.”

She disconnected the call and put her phone away before returning her attention to Izzy’s belongings. Shortly thereafter, she was joined by Hunter as she looked at a photo. “Izzy’s sister. Jane.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock put the phone back down on the bedside table and cursed long and low. After a few moments he picked it back up again.

“Yes,” Coulson’s voice sounded wearier than ever.

“What the fuck, Phil?”

“Ah, you’ve heard.”

“Skye and I don’t keep secrets, you know that. She’s upset, she called me. Now what the fuck went wrong? Because you and I both know that if you lost Hartley and Idaho, it could just as easily have been Skye and any other team member, and that’s not fucking cool with me. What the hell was this op and why didn’t you call me in for it?” Brock tried not to shout, but he could feel his rage simmering higher with every moment.

He heard Phil’s sigh. “Things go wrong, Rumlow. This time - things went very wrong. I never expected...”

He could hear the grief in the other man’s voice. It made him soften, a very little. “Shit goes wrong, Phil. Agents get killed. Does Morse know yet?”

“Oh God, no, I haven’t - haven’t had a chance to tell her. She’ll be devastated…”

“I’ll do it,” Brock said quietly. “I’m about done here. Agent 33 has vanished, no trace of her. HYDRA must have got to her first. And Thor’s on side, cautiously. He doesn’t want to draw a lot of attention to himself, but he is planning to stay in London for now, not go back to New York with the other Avengers, so he’ll be willing to help out on this side of the pond if it comes to something that needs his particular brand of smash and blast.”

“That’s good, that’s very good to hear,” Phil said. He sounded so exhausted, Brock couldn’t help but ask;

“Are you all right, Director?”

Coulson actually hesitated before responding. “I’ll talk to you about it when you get back. There’s something that you and Skye probably need to know. I - I’ve not really been able to tell you about it before now. And I can’t tell you over the phone, I’ll need to show you.”

“I am really not liking the sound of that,” Brock said.

Coulson chuckled bitterly. “Go see Morse, Rumlow. Check on Simmons for me too, please, make sure she’s eating something healthy, she’s a typical scientist, forgets to put enough nutrition in her body unless sternly reminded.”

Brock grinned. “I know the type. Acknowledged, sir, I’ll make sure she gets at least one decent meal. I’ll be in touch once I’ve seen the two of them.” He hung up and lay back on his uncomfortable hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes he sighed and got up, started to pack the few things he had out of his bag. He’d get no sleep tonight anyway, thinking about the what-ifs. He might as well get a move on, see how soon he could get on a flight to Chicago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock was actually impressed by Simmons’ reaction when she caught him in her apartment. He’d been less impressed by the contents of her fridge. “Beer and sriracha?” he said, shaking his head at her. “That’s all? What kind of diet is that?”

She rolled her eyes at him, putting her gun away. “If my diet’s such a concern, then perhaps dead drops shouldn’t involve fast food?”

Brock frowned thoughtfully. “We’ll revisit that protocol,” he murmured. McDonald’s were awfully convenient dead drop spots, but she was probably right. It made her look like a fast food junkie. “In the meantime, Coulson told me to make sure you got at least one decent meal. Grass fed steak, fingerling potatoes, organic kale. It’s basic, but I do good basic.” He took one of the bottles of beer from the fridge and handed it to her. “I’ll cook. You debrief.”

She told him about Donnie Gill while they ate. Brock listened intently, remembering what Skye had told him about the young Academy student turned Gifted. He didn’t like the sound of what Simmons was telling him _at all._ Not with Whitehall and Bakshi involved. If they got their hands on Gill and subjected him to that ghastly brainwashing process, they’d have a terrifying weapon. He didn’t mention it to Simmons, not wanting to frighten her. Inside HYDRA’s labs was actually the safest place for her, in the circumstances.

Jemma asked about the others, but he could see the look in her eyes, the need to know about Fitz.

“Skye tells me he’s doing okay. Getting better.” Brock hesitated. Giving comfort wasn’t exactly part of his skill set, but… “You did the right thing, leaving, Jemma. You can’t give him what he wants, and believe me I understand why. He needs to stand on his own two feet, and he will. In time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting with Morse the following day promised to be a good deal less pleasant. Brock arranged a meeting with her; dropping into her apartment unannounced would cause far more commotion than either agent needed.

He waited for her at a tiny restaurant in the Chinatown area, which happened to have the most authentic Chinese food Brock had tasted in the US. He ordered a variety of dishes, saying that he knew what his guest would enjoy when she arrived. Which he did, but not for the reason he figured the wait-staff was assuming.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Morse said when she arrived, exactly on time. She accepted the fresh cup of tea the waitress brought her and murmured a thank you in Mandarin.

“Not a problem. Food should be arriving shortly; I figured we could share.” He smiled at her and she took his hand, both of them easily adept at pretending to be more familiar than they were. She passed over a small data chip in the process; far easier at the moment than a dead drop.

“Of course. So, what brought you all the way here in person?” she asked in a low voice, pitched to avoid carrying far.

Brock hid a grimace, but his eyes when he met hers were regretful. “I’m here to be the bearer of bad news, I’m afraid,” he answered in a similarly low tone.

She frowned. “What kind of bad news?”

“The kind no one ever wants to hear,” he began, then paused. “Hartley and Idaho. I don’t have the details, only that a project went south in the worst kind of way. Hunter’s still with the team, though; we didn’t lose everyone.”

Grief flashed across her face, quickly followed by a silent agony and then hard-edged anger before her expression closed down entirely. She shut her eyes tightly and took several deep breaths. Her eyes opened when their food arrived and she dredged up a polite smile for their server.

“When you find out, I want to know what happened,” Morse said quietly as they began to eat.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” he agreed. “If it makes you feel any better, I only know right now because my soulmate called me. She was upset; fortunately, the boss understands that we don’t keep secrets from each other. He called me in to let you know and then to head back for a bit.”

“Was she there?” From everything she’d heard, Morse figured that Brock’s soulmate was still new enough of an Agent to be taking it hard.

“Not to see what happened; I don’t know anything more than that. The teams were split up, was the impression I got.”

Morse nodded and they ate in silence for several minutes. Though she hid it well, Brock could still see the hints of fury and grief in the other agent’s eyes. “Thank you for staying to tell me,” she said finally. “I know a lot of people who would have left it for me to find out after this job is done.”

“She was your friend and partner,” Brock replied, his expression sympathetic. “You deserved better than that.”

She smiled in response. It was a small, sad smile; probably the most genuine expression he’d seen on her face since she arrived, with the exception of her grief-stricken one for those few seconds it took her to hide away.

Small talk filled the rest of the meal; Morse began to tell stories of Hartley from back when they first met. Off-the-clock stories, of course. Brock listened quietly, occasionally asking questions; letting her get some of it out of her system before she had to resume her mission persona.

“Keep a watch on Simmons,” he said, just before they went their separate ways. “She’s not used to undercover, and it’s taking a toll on her. We haven’t risked telling her about you in case she gets picked up and gives you away before you can get her out.”

“I’ve barely seen her,” Morse shrugged. “And if she doesn’t know about me, paying attention to her now will freak her out worse. I’ll keep an eye out, but from a distance. I know that she’s not suspected of anything, not at the moment. Her supervisor’s an idiot, plus he keeps trying to take credit for her work, I can tell you that too. I’ll keep Coulson’s precious little scientist safe, Rumlow, don’t worry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was almost back to the his hotel before it occurred to him that there’d been genuine venom in her voice when she said Coulson’s name. Well. She barely knew him, and it was quite possible that at this point, she blamed him for Hartley’s death. Brock wasn’t at all sure yet that it _hadn’t_ been Coulson’s fault. He shrugged off his concern. Morse would find out soon enough that Coulson’s heart was in the right place. Anyone spending enough time with him would be able to see that.

The phone rang just as he got to his room; it was Coulson.

“I need you to pull some strings,” Coulson said without preamble, “Call Rogers if you have to. Things have got complicated. Hunter cut a deal with Talbot and I’m going to better it, but part of the offer is a proper military funeral for Hartley. I could possibly arrange it but it might be better if you do it.”

“All right,” Brock said quietly. It was the least Hartley deserved. “Arlington?”

“If possible. Let me have the details.”

“What about Idaho?”

“He had family; his parents are alive. Trip’s flown the body back to them and I’ve taken care of funeral expenses. Just Hartley.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They met a few days later on a hillside overlooking the grave where Hartley’s family mourned. Hunter was there too; standing beneath a tree a little further down the hill. He made no move to join the family, but Brock and Coulson watched as he broke into Jane Hartley’s car and hung a pendant from the rearview mirror.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Coulson said. “I think he’s still kind of scared of you.”

“Smarter than he looks, then,” Brock said dryly, folding his arms. He watched and waited while Coulson and the mercenary talked. And finally, they came walking back up the hill together.

“Welcome to the team?” Brock made it a question.

“Yay for Team SHIELD,” Hunter said sarcastically, but there was a half-smile on his face. He glanced back down at Jane Hartley, walking to her car. “Iz would have wanted me to do this,” he said finally. “And I owe her my life too many times over not to. So yeah.” He accepted Brock’s outstretched hand. “I’m in.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **It’s actually been really interesting for us to use Rumlow to fill in the way we think some things might have gone down that we never saw on screen. Bobbi’s reaction to Hartley’s death was one of those things.**


	22. I Didn't Mean You!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye still has to question Ward about Donnie Gill. Only this time, Brock's there with her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter occur during Season 2 Episode 3, and may use portions of dialogue from this episode._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%205_zpsdf9qcdcc.jpg.html)

Brock filled Coulson in on the intelligence he’d received from Morse and Simmons on the way back to the Playground. Coulson looked black at the mention of Donnie Gill.

“That’s very worrying. Well, we’ll get on tracking him down.” He glanced sideways at Brock, hesitated as though debating with himself if he should speak. “Ward’s not been quite so easy to manage without you around.”

Brock’s lips tightened. “I can go down and give him another dose of medicine, if you like.”

“It might be for the best. He’s talked a little, but only to Skye…”

Brock’s explosion of rage shook the roof of the car. “What the fuck, Coulson, I told you very clearly that I didn’t want her down there!”

Coulson shook his head. “I know, but seriously! She has gotten some good intel. I think he didn’t plan to say anything really, he just kept telling her that he’d only tell her the truth but he kept bleating on about her father, wouldn’t talk about HYDRA. She lost it and told him that there was a big difference between not actively lying and full disclosure. You’d have been proud of her.”

Still furious, Brock couldn’t help but grin as he imagined Skye throwing that in Ward’s teeth. It would have been a nice sucker punch for the asshole. And then he frowned. “Wait. What? Skye’s _father_? Ward knows something about her parents? How could he possibly know anything about that?”

“Something to do with Raina,” Coulson shrugged. “You can question him again yourself if we get time.”

“Huh,” Brock scowled and returned his attention to the road. Something felt off about this whole business with Ward. And Raina. That chick and her flower dresses kept cropping up too. Next time she crossed SHIELD’s radar, _he_ was gonna ask the questions. Coulson didn’t seem to be asking the right ones.

His tension was somewhat relieved when Skye met them in the garage. She greeted Coulson with a smile, then threw herself into Brock’s arms. He caught her and held her close, bending down to kiss her thoroughly. Neither noticed Coulson moving away or heard the second vehicle pull in.

Skye slowly pulled away when she felt eyes on her back. She turned to see Hunter standing beside a car, starting at them with open-mouthed surprise. She smirked at him, then deliberately turned away again. Pulled Brock down for another kiss, and he chuckled even as he returned it.

“Bloody soulmates,” they heard Hunter mutter as he moved past them to head inside.

“Not that I mind, but why the show?”  Brock asked, his tone full of amusement as Skye released him.

“Oh, Hunter was all set to hit on me when I dropped the bomb on him that you’re my soulmate. He’s professed to be terrified ever since,” Skye told him, laughing. “Says I must be something horribly dangerous if I have someone like you for a soulmate.”

His laughter joined hers as they walked into the base together. “Hey, if it keeps his attention elsewhere, I don’t mind being the big bad operative.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” she assured him. “Even if he were flirting with me daily, I wouldn’t be interested in him.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he answered quietly. “I trust you.”

Skye dragged him into the nearest open room that wasn’t an office - turned out to be the TV lounge. She kicked the door shut, then pounced on him; her lips sought his neck even as she started stripping clothes away from the both of them.

Groaning, Brock decided that protocol could go to hell for once and moved to help her with the fastenings on her pants. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her pants as he let his shirt fall to the floor. He swept her up in his arms and laid her down on one of the couches, kissing her hungrily again. It had been _way_ too long since they’d seen each other. Again. And the bunk rooms were in a whole other wing of the base.

He needed her _now_ , and she was just as urgent, nails sinking into his shoulders as she held him close, gasping out his name as his hot mouth trailed down her throat, licking and sucking. He lingered to suck a mark into her neck, smiling with visceral satisfaction as her pale skin bruised under his mouth.

“Brock, please,” Skye whimpered as he unfastened her bra, tongued her nipples to aching points. “Please. Need you so bad.”

He could tell. She was soaked between her legs, and with a desperate groan he ripped her panties away and sheathed himself inside her with one long, hard thrust.

“Oh, God, yes, yes!” Skye was being noisy, so he sealed his mouth over hers and kissed her even as his hips jerked hard, slamming them both closer towards the brink with every thrust. But it wasn’t _enough_ , he couldn’t feel their bond properly, so with a hungry growl he pulled out and flipped her over. Skye went to her knees eagerly, putting her hands on the arm of the couch, a low cry of satisfaction escaping her as he pushed back in and bent over her to wrap his arms around her, their marks meeting.

“Oh yes, baby, there you are,” Brock groaned out. “That’s it, oh, missed you so much,” He pressed kisses across her shoulder, the side of her jaw as she turned her head towards him.

Heedless of the awkward position, Skye twisted in his arms to seal their mouths together. She no longer needed words to know how he was feeling, to tell him how much she needed this. He could feel it, just as much as he could feel the way her body began to tense as he drove her closer to ecstasy. Their kiss muffled her moans, and she felt the rumble of his low growls in his chest more than hearing them.

Brock freed one hand to find her clit, stroking roughly. It didn’t take much, just a few passes and her form went taut, her inner muscles clenching him tightly. He held out for a few seconds more, thrusting into her pulsing core before the combined physical and mental sensation pushed him over the edge with her.

He shifted them so they lay on the couch, cradling her against his chest. He reflected idly that before the soulbond he would have been apologetic that he’d finished so quickly; he’d always held himself to a higher standard with her, making sure she was as sated as possible before finding his own release. The bond between them now made that impossible sometimes, but he knew she took as much enjoyment from his pleasure as he did from hers.

And with his minimal recovery time, they weren’t as limited as they might have been otherwise.

Abruptly his senses kicked into high alert and Brock tensed as he heard the door open.

“What the hell?”

Identifying the voice as belonging to Mack, Skye quickly pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch to cover them with. Realizing that their clothes must be strewn around the room, Skye began to blush. Brock just chuckled darkly and let her hide against his chest.

“Give us a few, man, and we’ll pick things up in here,” he said, not bothering to move from his comfortable spot on the couch.

“You damn well better,” Mack shot back, his voice irritated. He grumbled something about needing bigger bottles of disinfectant as he closed the door, and Brock couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh God,” Skye buried her face in his chest. “I’m never gonna be able to look him in the eye again!”

“You can’t look him in the eye anyway, he’s a foot taller than you,” Brock pointed out through his laughter. Skye pinched him. “Oh, come on, babe, he didn’t get much of an eyeful. My ass, maybe, and seriously I could care less.” Sitting up, he reached for Skye’s clothes. Her panties were ripped beyond repair, though, and he laughed at her reproachful look even as he stuffed the torn scrap of satin into his jacket pocket.

“Serves you right for even bothering to wear any when you knew I was on my way back.”

“Just means you get to buy me new ones,” she shot back, laughing.

“Well, damn, if I’d known that was all it took…” He raked his eyes down her body, and she picked up a mental image of her in sexy lingerie from his mind.

Despite their repartee they had everything cleared up in short order and sneaked out hand in hand, giggling like teenagers caught necking. They made it all the way back to Skye’s room without running into anyone else, which was good, because by the time they got there Brock was fully recovered and quite intent on driving Skye right out of her mind. He locked the door behind them and pulled her down onto the bed, grinning at the look on her face and the anticipation he knew she was feeling.

“Missed you so much, beautiful. Let me show you _exactly_ how much.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They didn’t leave Skye’s room until the following morning, coming out just as Mack was walking past. He glanced at them, rolled his eyes and said;

“Well, at least you can disinfect your _own_ room,” to Skye. She blushed red and hid her face against Brock’s arm.

“Coulson’s called a briefin’,” Mack said then. “Got some information on that Gifted character you told him about yesterday, apparently,” he nodded to Brock before walking away.

“Shit, already?” Brock muttered under his breath.

“A Gifted?” Skye said with interest.

“Yeah, and you’ve met this one,” he said with a shake of his head. “Donnie Gill. From SHIELD Academy? It seems he may have developed powers after his weather machine backfired, and HYDRA are interested.”

“Wait, developed powers _how_? Another freak accident, like the one that made the Hulk?”

Brock shrugged. “There’s no way to know for sure. Even the reports can’t be fully relied on because we don’t know if they were submitted by SHIELD or HYDRA agents at the time.”

“Skye, Rumlow, a moment please.” Coulson intercepted them before they reached the briefing room. They paused in the hallway and nodded. “Thank you. I assume you’ve given Skye at least the basics of what you told me by now?”

“Very briefly, but I can give her the rest,” Brock confirmed.

“Good. I need you two to go downstairs. We need to know more about how HYDRA is likely to handle this situation, and I know you two worked in different areas so I need to know if there are differences in methods,” Coulson explained. “The idea is that your presence, Rumlow, should protect Skye and hopefully remind Ward to be straight with us.” He paused, glancing at Skye for a moment, then looked back to Brock. “If he’s uncooperative, you can remind him why cooperating is a good thing later. We’re going to need you both when the team gears up.”

Brock nodded. “Understood.”

The pair ducked into a nearby unused office rather than continuing on to the main briefing. Brock explained the rest of what he’d learned from Simmons. Skye smiled when he told her about Jemma’s poor eating habits and her comment about fast food drops. But she sobered again quickly at the idea of HYDRA collecting more Gifted people as well as former agents.

“This really is bad,” she commented quietly. She leaned against him for a moment, feeling his steady calm through their bond and borrowing some of it for herself. “Alright. Let’s go see if we can find out what Coulson wants to know.”

Brock debated  with himself as they headed for the vault. On the one hand - they needed Ward’s information. On the other, he didn’t want to Skye to see what he might have to do to get it. She still hadn’t seen that side of him in action, and honestly he didn’t really want her to.

He had, of course, forgotten the bond. Her small hand crept into his as they walked. “Stop it, Brock,” Skye said quietly.

“Hmm?” He looked down at her.

“I know what you’re thinking. Trust me, there is nothing you could say or do that would make me love you any less than I do.”

He couldn’t help but lean down to kiss her for that. But then they were at the vault door. “You go in first,” Brock said quietly. “I want him to think he’s got control, to believe that he’s getting what he wants, to be alone with you. Seeing me will throw him badly off balance then.”

Skye nodded. Brock hated feeling her sudden fear as she put her hand on the vault door, even though he could taste the steely thread of her determination beneath it. His rage at Ward peaked once more. Standing at the top of the stairs in the shadows, he listened silently.

“Skye!” Ward exclaimed happily. “It’s so good to see you again! You look well.”

“Let’s talk about HYDRA’s protocol on gifteds,” she said coolly.

“Is that a heart rate tracker bracelet? I hear May’s big on those. It’s a good tool to use, work on keeping your cool. You need to learn to keep all your body vitals on the level to…”

“To what, fool a lie detector?” Skye spat, and Brock sighed inaudibly. _Don’t get mad, Skye. Don’t let him divert you from your purpose_.  

“I was going to say, to be a good agent,” Ward replied after a moment. “You can be, you know. You can be a great agent. You’ve got a good SO, a great team. No baggage holding you back.”

“Oh, we’re not back to this again are we? It’s all Garrett’s fault. Or is it your brother’s? Let’s get it straight, Ward. I just don’t care who you’re blaming. You made your choices.”

“And they were the wrong ones; I see that now. I promised you, Skye, I wouldn’t lie to you any more. Everything I’ve told you is the truth.”

“And she told you,” Brock said, walking down the stairs to stand beside Skye, resting his hand lightly at the small of her back, “that the selected truth is very different from full disclosure. Did you ask how she knew the difference, Ward?”

Ward had shrunk back into the corner of his cell, his mouth agape. He started to shake convulsively at the sight of his enemy. “No. No, no, no. Not you.”

“Of course me. I told her everything. I can’t hide anything from my soulmate.” He touched Skye’s chin gently, tilting her head to look up at him. She smiled up at him lovingly;, and he bent his head and kissed her tenderly, slowly, uncaring of the sound of Ward’s panting breath turning to near-sobs as he watched.

Finally, Brock lifted his head. Skye had sagged against him and he eased her gently to sit down, pressed his fingers on her shoulder lightly. Sent her all the love he could through their bond before turning away and stepping up to the screen, drawing a shockstick.

“Now,” he said softly. Ward had sunk down into the corner, hunched in on himself, tears running down his face and disappearing into his thick beard. “Are you going to answer Skye’s questions, or am I going to come in there and make you?”

“You know what HYDRA do with Gifteds as well as I do!” Ward almost screamed it. “An acquisition team is sent out to convince or capture! If neither is possible, they’ll take them out!”

“Even if the Gifted doesn’t pose a threat?” Skye asked curiously.

“A Gifted who refuses HYDRA _is_ a threat. And threats are taken care of quickly.”

“That’s the difference between SHIELD and HYDRA, then,” Skye murmured thoughtfully.

Brock snorted. He’d seen too many Gifteds taken down by SHIELD agents to believe that. That said - who was to say those agents weren’t HYDRA all along?

Ward got to his feet. Glared at both of them. “And that’s why HYDRA will win,” he said, his eyes burning with the madness of a fanatic. “Because while a SHIELD agent is considering right and wrong, HYDRA’s already taken the shot.”

“Murdering assholes that they are,” Skye muttered. She saw Brock’s flinch and realised suddenly what she’d just said.

“We’re done here,” Brock turned away from Ward, hit the button to opaque the screen. “He’s got nothing for us.”

“I’m sorry,” Skye said despairingly, feeling his hurt, “I didn’t - I didn’t mean you.”

“I know. It still applies to me, Skye. I was one of those murdering HYDRA assholes. I still would be, if not for you.”

Skye tugged him gently towards the stairs, not wanting to be down here with Ward any longer than absolutely necessary. “Maybe you would be. Or maybe you would’ve found another reason to leave. Maybe I just gave you a reason to think about who you were working for and decide that it was the wrong place to be.” She shrugged lightly. “We’ll never know for sure; but right here and now you made a choice to walk away from all that.”

Brock followed her out of the vault; when the door was shut behind them and Skye began to relax, he pulled her into his arms with a quiet sigh. “You have such faith in me, Skye, and I’m not sure I really deserve it,” he said, his voice low despite knowing that the others were likely still in Coulson’s briefing.

Skye only smiled. “So then you tell me: why did you leave HYDRA?”

“Because there’s no way you would have ever fit into their version of order,” he answered immediately. “And I would never let anyone harm you, let alone help them to do it.”

“Was it just for me? Or was there more to it?”

Brock sighed. “At first, it _was_ just for you, Skye. You were mine and I wasn’t about to let anyone take you from me.” He caressed her cheek with a gentle fingertip and she smiled a little. “And then they told me you had been shot, maybe killed. I found out that the Clairvoyant - Garrett used you to try to force Coulson to figure out how to save your life. And if they could do that…”

Skye nodded. “You realized that HYDRA wasn’t the right side to be on. Brock, everyone makes bad choices sometimes. I should never have gone into that compound after Quinn all by myself. But I thought I was doing the right thing, and in the end I didn’t die.” Brock’s arms tightened around her, and she silently reassured him through their bond. “Even if I was just the reason you started thinking things through again, I’m okay with that. Asshole downstairs keeps telling me that HYDRA has ways of getting to you. They got to you, and they messed with your body as well as your mind. And so you needed a stronger reason to think outside that box. I’m okay with being that reason.”

Brock shook his head. “My moral compass is still skewed, Skye. I’m not a good man.”

“But you do good things,” she insisted.

“Because of _you_. Because I will do everything I can to avoid being someone you can’t love. Because if there’s a difference between what I would do and what you would do, I try to let your way guide me.” He sighed as she just held him tighter.

“I think that’s a workable trade-off,” she quipped lightly, sending him a wave of love and acceptance through their bond. “You keep me safe and I keep you on the right track. Not that we weren’t doing those things anyway.”

He chuckled, then pulled back just enough to kiss her softly, lovingly. “You really are amazing, Skye. Too good for the likes of me.”

“Don’t say things like that,” she chided gently. “We belong together. Soulmates keep each other balanced, stable. That’s how it works.”

They stood together, holding each other for a long moment, until Trip’s voice hollered down the corridor.

“Damn, girl, thought you were working, not makin’ time with your man! Coulson says get yo’ ass in this meeting, we got some information about Gill!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I HAD to include the bit about Mack catching them at it; it’s my headcanon that whenever anyone gets up to something they shouldn’t anywhere but in their own quarters, Mack ends up walking in and then bitching about everything having to be disinfected. Poor Mack!**
> 
>  
> 
>  


	23. Maintain Cover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team face off against HYDRA and Donnie Gill, and Phil makes a confession to Brock and Skye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episodes 3 and 4, and may use portions of dialogue from these episodes. Some events may occur out of order from the series._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/STRIKE_zpswcbdep63.jpg.html)

Less than half an hour later, they were on the Bus, bound for Morocco. Knowing Skye hadn’t parachuted before, Brock debated taking her in tandem with him, but before he even suggested it, he could feel her resistance to the idea. Instead he secured her straps carefully, showed her what to do.

“Your first jump?” Hunter remarked, seeing the nervous look on Skye’s face. He made some crack about his folding skills being abysmal. Knowing he’d packed the chutes, Brock shot him an annoyed look. Hardly a helpful remark to make to a first-time parachutist. From the corner of his eye, he saw Skye check her pulse monitor and smiled slightly. She’d calmed and steadied herself, he could feel it.

“You’ll be fine, baby,” he pressed a last kiss on her brow. “I’ll see you on the ground.” He would jump last, as the most experienced parachutist. If any of the others got into problems, he could skydive to them, hopefully in time to help.

“Careful down there,” Coulson warned in an undertone as they prepared to jump. “That ship’s HYDRA. There might be people down there who know you by sight, and we’d really rather HYDRA don’t know you’re still alive.”

“That’s what this is for,” Brock held up a wad of black fabric, pulled it down over his face. It was a plain black balaclava that hid all but his eyes and mouth. Grinning back at Coulson, he sprinted down the ramp and couldn’t quite resist doing a showy backflip out of the plane.

All the parachutes worked perfectly, despite Hunter’s claim of poor folding skills, and soon they were on the ground. Brock and Hunter swiftly rolled the chutes and shoved them between two shipping containers while Skye assembled her sniper rifle and May quickly scouted. They were boarding the _Maribel del Mar_ within minutes, Skye setting up on a high vantage point.

“That is pretty fucking spooky,” Hunter muttered to Brock as they looked over the side at the solid ice around the ship.

“Tell me about it,” Brock said darkly. He shared a grim glance with the Brit before looking at May. She didn’t like Gifteds much, he knew, with good cause, considering what had happened in Bahrain.

“Let’s go below,” May said after a moment. “Hunter, with me. Rumlow, you go aft, find a way below there. Check the crew quarters.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he acknowledged the order, glanced once up at Skye covering them all with her rifle before drawing his weapons and making his way towards the ship’s stern.

Brock realised he was in the wrong place a few minutes later when he heard gunshots. And then he heard Hunter bitching over the com that May had shot him.

“I know he’s an annoying little turd, May, but was that necessary?” he asked, sprinting forward through the ship towards the shots.

“Simmons is here,” May’s voice crackled in his ear. “Repeat, Simmons is on site with HYDRA. Do we maintain her cover?”

“Fuck,” Brock hissed under his breath. He didn’t dare ask if Morse was here as well. Not with Hunter on the com link. He knew Coulson would be thinking about it, though. A moment later Phil gave the order to maintain Simmons’ cover.

They followed Jemma and Gill as quickly as possible, eventually reaching an iced-over door. Hunter tried shooting the lock free, but it was ineffective. “Let me try,” Brock said, pushing past Hunter.

“No, don’t!” May caught his arm, holding him back. “If you touch it and he’s spreading the ice it’ll get you too.”

“Shit,” Brock exclaimed, then looked up as the ceiling began to freeze over as well.

“We’re trapped,” May said as they quickly tried to backtrack, outpacing the ice - for the moment.

Up on the deck, Skye watched as Donnie started to freeze the entire ship. He was standing entirely alone and she had a free shot. She hesitated for a moment, but then heard May’s comment about them being trapped. Determination filled her thoughts; there was no way she was going to let her teammates die on this ship.

Especially not with Brock down there too.

Aiming carefully and using every trick May had taught her to keep herself calm, Skye took the shot. Her aim was true and Gill not only stopped icing the ship but he fell overboard. HYDRA would not be retrieving him easily.

Skye looked down over the rail, meeting Jemma’s eyes as the scientist looked up at her with uncertainty all over her face. Skye readied another shot, aiming to miss but knowing that Jemma saw it; gave her undercover friend a chance to shove the tall, dark-haired man out of the line of fire.

Cover maintained.

“Let’s go!” the man yelled out, and Simmons raced away with the others.

“The threat has been neutralized,” Skye reported, checking her heart monitor and seeing it steady. “HYDRA doesn’t have him.”

“And Agent Simmons?” Trip asked over comms.

“Her cover has been maintained,” Skye answered calmly. “She’s safe for now. They’re leaving empty-handed. But we’re not,” she added, looking over all the crates and boxes with the HYDRA logo stamped on them.

She kept her rifle out and ready until the rest of her team emerged from below deck. She felt Brock send her a sense of approval and pride and she smiled at him. With May, Hunter and Brock readily to hand she began to dismantle and pack away the rifle. She still had her ICERs on her belt, but this way she had plenty of cover while she was distracted.

After they got stuff loaded onto the Bus, Skye went up to the old command center. She sat on the table with her laptop, monitoring local news and police reports. When May joined her, she reported that Gill’s body hadn’t been recovered yet.

“So I take it this means we don’t have to keep Jemma’s mission secret anymore?” she asked May.

“No, most of the team knows at this point. But let Coulson handle Fitz.”

Skye nodded. “I’m scared for her. I know Brock trained her as best he could, and I know he and Coulson wouldn’t have sent her in if she didn’t have the skills. But I’m worried.”

“I understand, and that’s natural. But she can handle it. She’s good. And she’s not the only one.” Skye nodded a little, accepting May’s comment and implied compliment. She knew she’d done what needed to be done, but May had been right. It wasn’t easy, and if she had to do it again it still wouldn’t be easy.

But as Brock joined her and May left, Skye pondered the idea that maybe it _shouldn’t_ be easy.

“Want to talk about it, sweetheart?” Brock offered, pulling her into his arms and sending her soothing thoughts through the bond.

“No, not really,” she answered at first, but then she paused and sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get good at being a killer. I don’t think I want to. If it has to be done, it has to be done. But I don’t _want_ this to get easier.”

Brock held her a little closer, considering her words. “You’ll probably have to kill again, Skye. It’s part of being a field operative. Sometimes you have to make those tough calls or obey those tough orders, otherwise the results may be much worse than one life or two or three.”

“And I can accept that,” Skye answered immediately. “But I was wrong, earlier when we were downstairs. The difference between SHIELD and HYDRA isn’t whether or not we’d take the shot. It’s how it affects us afterwards. Taking a life _shouldn’t_ be easy, and I wouldn’t want it to be.”

Brock considered that, reflecting for a moment on how little value HYDRA placed on the lives of individuals. Perhaps she was right. “And that’s what makes you a good person, Skye.”

Listening from just around the corner, May nodded and smiled to herself just a little. Skye would be fine, especially with her soulmate to support her. And one day she’d be a hell of an operative.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at the Playground, Brock’s lips tightened as he listened to Phil reprimand Fitz for nearly killing Ward. _Should have let the kid do it,_ he mused, _might help his recovery_. After Fitz left Coulson’s office afterwards, his head hanging down, he joined Fitz in the corridor and put a hand on the young engineer’s shoulder.

“Sir?” Fitz looked up at him nervously.

“You don’t need to call me that. Call me Brock, or Rumlow if you’re more comfortable with that. I just wanted to say - in my opinion, you did well, Fitz. I never thought to ask Ward if he knew anything about Gill, and I’m kicking myself for the oversight. Your warning made a real difference. Thank you.”

Fitz’s eyes brightened, and he gave a small smile. “Th-thanks, sir. Uh, Rumlow.”

“I also want to reassure you about Simmons,” Brock kept his voice low as he steered Fitz into an empty office. “Only a few people know where she is for operational safety reasons. But she _is_ safe. I implanted her myself, set up safety protocols. We have a very experienced senior field agent in there watching over her too. Don’t worry about your friend, Fitz.” He placed a deliberate, if slight, emphasis on the word _friend_.

Fitz was quiet for a moment before nodding. “G-good to know. I just. I thought she abandoned... us.” He waved a shaky hand.

“She didn’t. She went on a critical mission to find out information we desperately need to know. Simmons is a SHIELD agent, Fitz, her duty comes first.”

“Yessir.” Fitz’s response was immediate. “I mean - yes, Agent Rumlow.”

“That’s not a great deal better. You’re making me feel like your dad, and I already feel like a dirty old man with Skye.”

Fitz actually laughed for the first time since his injury. “I g-g-guarantee Skye doesn’t think so.”

“That, at least, is good to hear.” He gave one more gentle pat to the younger man’s shoulder before leaving, heading back to Coulson’s office.

“Rumlow, come in,” Coulson glanced up at him. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you have further orders for me, sir?”

Coulson hesitated for a moment, but then shook his head. “Take a run up to Chicago and service the dead drops if you would, but otherwise no. Why?”

“Because I think it’s time I started looking for those other enhanced soldiers. Skye’s been running some search programs and we might have a lead on someone in the Seattle area.”

Phil nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that’s certainly worth checking out.” His fingers tapped out a little rhythm on the desk, and he seemed to come to a decision. Abruptly, he picked up a piece of paper and wrote something down, a name and address. “While you’re there - would you nip down to Portland and check up on someone for me? Don’t let her know she’s being watched.” He slid the piece of paper across the desk.

“Audrey Nathan,” Brock read. “Anything in particular I’m looking for?” Glancing up at Phil, he thought he caught a hint of pain on the Director’s weary face.

“Just make sure she’s safe,” Phil said quietly, looking away.

Brock blinked. “Yes, sir,” he said finally, stowed the paper in his jacket pocket, and stood up. “I’ll keep you advised.”

“Thank you.” Phil paused for a moment, considering Brock thoughtfully. “Before you go, I do need to talk to you and Skye about something.”

Brock paused, remembering that Coulson had mentioned something briefly during their last phone conversation. “I can call her to join us, if you’d like,” Brock offered. When Phil nodded, he silently sent an inquiry to Skye over their bond. When she responded with curiosity, he managed to convey the feeling of needing her to find him. Communicating via emotion was not the easiest thing to do, but they were getting better at it over time.

A few minutes later, Skye knocked on the door and Phil let her in. “Hey. You needed to see me?”

“Come in and sit down, please, Skye,” Phil said calmly. She did so, sitting beside Brock and across from Coulson. “There’s something you should know, and I thought it would be easiest to tell you both together.”

“We’re listening,” Brock said easily.

“Skye has been researching a set of symbols for me. When Garrett was going mad from the GH-325, he started etching them on glass.”

“And then when Hartley picked up the Obelisk, I saw the same symbols form on its surface,” Skye said quietly. “I mentioned it right away, but we had bigger problems at the time. I’ve still been researching, but while we’ve found other sources of similar symbols no one seems to have any idea what they mean.”

“Have you tried putting them together? Do they form a larger picture?”

“None of the ones I’ve seen seem to fit together that way,” Skye commented slowly, clearly thinking over the images.

“Perhaps it would help if you had more pieces.” Coulson’s voice was quiet. He walked over to his desk and hit the button to slide his wall-screen away. Hidden behind it was a wall full of etched symbols, and Skye stared at them in shock.

“Oh, no. You’ve started too?” she asked quietly.

“This hypergraphia seems to be a side-effect of the drug,” Phil explained gently. “It comes on like a fit, sometimes, every couple of weeks. And the worst thing is that no matter how much I do, it still means nothing to me.”

Skye shook her head, looking at Phil with clear concern. “I haven’t felt the urge to do _anything_ like this,” she told him.

“Wait, why would you?” Brock asked, picking up on Skye’s concern and immediately starting to worry for her.

“Because the drug that drove Garrett mad is the same drug that brought Coulson back to life and kept me from dying,” Skye reminded him; a lot had happened since she shared her initial concerns about the drug, and she wasn’t terribly surprised that it had slipped his mind.

“Fuck.” Brock pulled Skye close and she silently reassured him.

“Like I said, I’ve shown no signs of it. It hasn’t even come up in idle doodling when killing time.” Skye began to calm down, worried about Phil but not so much for herself. “Maybe it won’t affect me the same way.”

“Because of your 0-8-4 status?” Phil seemed intrigued by that concept.

“Maybe,” Skye agreed. “Perhaps it won’t affect me that way because I came from wherever it did.”

“We don’t know that, Skye.”

“But we don’t know that it isn’t true, either,” Brock interjected. He kept his arm around Skye, wordlessly reassuring her that he didn’t care where she came from. It didn’t change anything about how he felt about her. The symbols, though. That was worrying. Especially if Garrett had been manically etching them in the depths of his madness. He met Phil’s eyes.

“I’ve never seen anything like that before,” Brock said honestly. “Not with SHIELD or with HYDRA. And you know I’ve seen some pretty weird shit.”

Phil nodded, but his shoulders seemed to sag a little, and Brock realised he’d held some small hope that Brock might recognise it. Skye straightened in his arms suddenly, leaning forward.

“Skye?” Phil asked, seeing her move. “Do you have some theory about it now, seeing a bigger picture? It’s not complete, I know - I don’t seem to have all the pieces.”

“I do have a theory, yes,” Skye stood up, moved over to the deeply graven carvings in the wall. “It’s not writing. It’s a map.”

Brock blinked as she ran her fingers gently over some of the odd circles and lines. “A map of _what_?”

“I don’t know.” Skye turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “I just - I know it’s a map.”

Concerned, he stared at her. What if Coulson had triggered something in Skye by showing her his carvings? Skye felt his fear and came over to him.

“It’s all right,” she reassured softly, slipping her hand into his. “I have no impulse to join in. There’s nothing of this in my head.” It was true; the only images of this that she had were pictures that had been shown to her. She wouldn’t be able to draw it if asked; just that some instinct was telling her that it was a map. And incomplete.

Coulson had picked up a knife and almost dreamily started adding to the carvings. Skye watched for a moment, part horrified and part fascinated. Then she grabbed her phone and started recording what Coulson was doing as well as the full image.

“Does anyone else know about this?” Skye asked after a few moments, her voice low in case interrupting was a bad idea.

“May,” Coulson’s eyes flicked over to her, then his attention returned to his etching.

“I’ll call her,” Brock said before Skye could ask. “You keep on that.” Skye nodded and continued recording the full image, moving a little closer and shifting to one side so she could capture details without being in Phil’s way.

Maybe with a bigger picture, she’d manage to find something more. She could only hope that identifying the map and possibly determining its location would help Phil get past this.

When May joined them, she quickly moved to close off the office to possible observers. She and Brock shared a look that spoke volumes of concern. “Skye,” she called quietly. “I’ve got a good camera in the drawer. It’s better if we stay out of his way,” she said in a low, even tone. Skye just nodded and moved back while May set up the recorder.

“I need the full images. If I’m going to fill in the gaps on his map, I need to know what I’m working with,” Skye said, her voice as soft as May’s.

“Map?” Her SO looked up, startled for just a moment.

“Yeah. I don’t know how I know, but that’s what it is.” She shrugged. “It’s not in my head. I couldn’t do what he’s doing. But when I look at it, I see a map.”

May’s eyes softened briefly as she regarded her protegée. “Good work. I’ll give you a copy of the recording, but I want you to pull the images you need and cut out anything with him actually in it. Then delete the video.”

Skye nodded. “I can do that. We’ll get him through this.”

And for the first time since she’d caught Phil at his night-time hypergraphia spells, May actually felt relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Skye finds out about Phil’s hypergraphia a little earlier in this ‘verse, because Phil makes the decision to trust Brock - and by extension, Skye - with it. Mostly because he was hoping Brock had seen something like it before._ **
> 
>  


	24. I've Spent My Life Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morse and Simmons leave HYDRA; Brock helps Skye deal with the aftermath of finding out her father is not what she hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter takes dialogue from Season 2 Episode 5 and contains spoilers for events in and beyond Episode 16._

[ ](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/bike_zpsnii51hzs.jpg.html)

Skye walked towards the garage with a tablet in one hand and a flash drive in the other. She wasn’t happy that Brock needed to leave again, but she knew it couldn’t be helped. He had undercover agents to check on and people to make contact with.

Brock looked up and smiled at her when she joined him beside the vehicle he was loading with his duffel bag. He was still flying commercial most of the time as he moved around to look for people.

“Here,” she handed him the tablet and the drive. “The data’s encrypted, but there’s a program on the tablet to let you access it. Neither is useful without the other, just in case,” she explained.

He grinned at her caution and nodded. “Better that way, sweetheart.” He packed away the items and then pulled her into his arms. “It’ll be alright, love,” he murmured softly into her ear as she pressed herself against him.

“I know,” she whispered back. “Just be careful out there. Call if you need anything.”

“You know I will. You be careful too.”

“As much as I can be,” she agreed. She stood on her toes and kissed him soundly. Then with a parting smile and a wave of love, she turned to head back into the Playground.

Brock smiled all the way to the airport.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He got a text from Skye a few days later. _Gonna get some sunshine at last! Off to Miami!_

Brock texted Coulson before Skye. _Something in Miami I should know about?_

 _Nothing we can’t handle. Following up another lead on the ‘map’_.

He nodded to himself and texted Skye. _Enjoy the sunshine, beautiful. I’m getting rained on in Portland, but I’d rather be on a beach with you any day._

The reply was unexpected. _PORTLAND? OMG are you checking up on Coulson’s girlfriend?_

_His WHAT?_

_Well, his ex-girlfriend… long story, but she thinks he’s still dead._

“Huh,” Brock said aloud to himself, checking out the beautiful woman he was watching drink her morning coffee. “Well. Can’t fault Phil’s taste.”

He carried on reading his newspaper as Audrey Nathan left the coffee shop. Lovely woman, but there were lines of sadness around her eyes and mouth. Clearly she was still grieving for Phil. She lived alone, not even a cat to keep her company. A quiet life. Forty-eight hours later he was pretty sure that she was in absolutely no danger… apart from her habit of going jogging in the dark with earbuds in. Not all that smart a thing to do. He debated giving her a scare but decided against it finally. Heading back to Chicago to check the drop boxes again, he was still there when he got a call from Trip.

“Where are you, buddy?” Trip’s voice sounded strained and rushed.

“Chi-town, why?”

“Thank fuck for that. We’ve got Raina problems again. She’s fucking sold Simmons out. I’m on my way in for pickup, Morse has been advised but if they can’t get out of the building…”

“On my way,” Brock was already running for the door.

Less than a minute later Trip was in his ear again. “I’ve got them. We’re cutting our losses here. Where are you? I’ll pick you up too.”

Brock pulled his motorbike off the road and gave co-ordinates. Trip was there within minutes, landing the quinjet on a vacant lot, still in stealth mode. Morse leaned out and waved to show Brock where they were. He wheeled the bike up the ramp. Might as well keep it, it was a good bike.

He was a little surprised when Jemma threw herself on him and hugged him tightly. She’d had a hell of a scare, he could see it in her eyes. Gently he hugged her back before pressing her to sit down and fastening her safety harness.

“You’re all right, Simmons, you’re safe.”

“Thanks to Agent Morse,” Jemma looked at the older woman with something very like hero-worship.

“Bobbi,” Morse insisted, holding her hand out to Rumlow. “Good to see you again, Rumlow.”

“You’d better make it Brock if we’re all going to be on a first name basis,” he said dryly, grabbing a strap to secure the bike. “Get us out of here, Trip.”

His phone started ringing at that moment, and he answered it as the quinjet took off. “Rumlow.”

“Where are you?” It was May, and he could tell something was badly wrong.

“On board the quinjet with Trip, Simmons and Morse. Where do you need me?”

She blew out a little sigh of relief. “Good. We need you here. It’s Skye’s father, Brock. He’s… well, he’s a monster. Raina wanted to take Skye to him, and we figured he had to be close by, but… we’ve found a room dripping with blood. Skye’s not in a good way.”

He closed his eyes. Tried to focus on the bond, on Skye, but all he could feel was a roiling tangle of fear and misery. “I’m on my way. Take care of her until I get there.”

“Of course.”

Brock cursed under his breath as he took a seat beside Simmons.

“Problems?” she asked gently.

“Yeah. It’s a good thing we’re not far away.”

Jemma nodded and sat back with a sigh. It was good to be away from HYDRA again.

When they landed, Brock bypassed Simmons and the others as soon as he saw May and Coulson in the hallway. He met May’s eyes and she glanced back towards the offices before turning her attention to welcoming Jemma and Bobbi. Brock didn’t linger; he had more pressing concerns.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye stood in Coulson’s office, staring out the window. She could feel Brock’s presence coming closer and knew she just had to hold on long enough for him to get there. Her emotions were in such turmoil that she couldn’t feel anything specific from him, so she mostly just tried to keep her emotions to herself. She didn’t want to risk hurting him or compromising whatever he was doing.

Coulson and May hadn’t left her alone until a few minutes ago. But when Coulson got a call about a plane coming in, she’d sent them both off to meet whomever. She guessed probably Jemma; after Raina’s bomb dropped, she knew they’d have to extract the scientist from her mission.

She didn’t turn to look when she heard footsteps on the office floor. She recognized the presence and the sound of his movement and only relaxed against him when Brock wrapped his arms around her waist. He surrounded her with a comforting feeling, holding her gently.

“Talk to me, Skye,” he murmured gently.

“You heard about what happened?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I heard.”

“I’ve spent my whole life searching, and I find this. Not that my parents were killed by a monster, but that my father _became_ a monster that probably killed all those people.” Her voice broke and she turned in his arms, pressing her face against his shoulder.

Brock held her gently, stroking her hair as she cried out her pain. He kept his thoughts to himself, though silently he sympathized with her father. If someone tried to take her from him, he was perfectly capable of setting the world on fire to get her back. The only thing that could prevent him from going that far would be the knowledge that she would never actually want him to.

Just as she was getting her emotions back under control, Phil returned. He crossed the room quietly and stood facing Skye with an expression of concern.

Skye offered a small smile. “It’s good to have Simmons back.”

“Which is why you should be down there.”

“I know you’re going to go after him,” she said, her voice calm.

“Skye-”

“No, it’s okay. I get it; he’s a bad guy. And right now he has the Obelisk, which is a bad thing. You know, I spent my whole life wondering about him, who he would be and why he left. And now I just don’t care anymore. We need to stop him. And I just want you to know that whatever it takes, I’m in.”

Phil and Brock traded a glance and then Phil looked back at Skye. “That’s good to know.” His voice was calm, accepting. Confident that he could rely on her to do as she said she would.

“But if we’re going to do this,” Skye continued, her expression intense, “you have to be _completely_ honest with me. No more secrets, no more compartmentalization and definitely no more hidden cameras. You bring me in, no exceptions.”

“Okay,” Coulson agreed.

“Okay,” Skye replied, inwardly relieved that he had accepted her terms.

“You already know a lot of it. The symbols, this map as you’ve called it. You know about Mike Peterson; there’s more to that project. There are others. Some like him, some not. I’ll give you more detail as we go.”

“Wait, you’re recruiting people with powers?” Skye was startled, and she noticed that Brock wasn’t. “You knew.” It wasn’t a question.

“I knew,” Brock confirmed. “We understood from the beginning that some secrets are bigger than us, Skye. I knew or now know a number of these people.”

Skye nodded, accepting both statements. “I’ll keep it to myself. I know what we’re trying to do is huge. But I can help, if you’ll let me.”

“I know you will, Skye.” Coulson offered her a small smile. “But for now, I want you to relax. Spend some time with Simmons, and with your soulmate. We’ll bring you up to speed over the next couple of days, alright?”

Skye nodded. “Alright.”

“Come on,” Brock stroked his hands over her shoulders gently. “Come and see Simmons, and meet Agent Morse. And then we’ll go somewhere private and you can cry on my shoulder as much as you like.” He could feel that she was hanging on to her emotional control by her fingertips. She needed time and space to have a little breakdown.

Skye smiled slightly. “Yes. It’ll be good to see Jemma again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She held it together long enough to embrace Jemma - who was anxiously looking around for Fitz - and tell her that they’d just seen Fitz in the labs. Brock fully intended to introduce Skye to Morse but she was engaged in the kind of heated argument with Hunter that was probably going to end up with the pair of them in a bed if nobody interrupted. Fortunately, May did just that, sending Bobbi to Coulson’s office for debrief.

“Okay,” Brock said quietly into Skye’s ear as they watched Hunter pacing up and down, scrubbing his hands over his short hair and muttering agitatedly to himself. “We’re surplus to requirements here. Let’s go.”

They ended up in his room, Skye curled in his arms on the bed, sobbing her heartbreak into his shirt. Slowly, in bits and pieces, she managed to get the story out. How Ward had insisted that Raina knew her father, how Raina herself had confirmed it just that evening. Skye hadn’t been able to resist going to find him, but what they’d found…

Brock shook his head, rocking Skye gently in his arms. “Oh, sweetheart. If I could have spared you that - I would have done _anything_ to spare you that. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s a monster,” Skye sobbed. “A killer, a blood-soaked butcher.”

There was nothing he could say. Because as far as he could see, the only difference he could see between Skye’s father and himself was that Brock didn’t enjoy the bloodshed. Instead he stroked her hair gently, sent continuous thoughts of love and unconditional acceptance along the bond to her, and at last she fell asleep in his arms, emotionally exhausted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye woke feeling physically better but still emotionally wrung-out. Her mind felt wrapped in Brock’s warmth and his love and she let it soothe and comfort her. She rolled onto her back and looked up at Brock with a small smile. “Hey,” she greeted him softly.

“Hey yourself, sweetheart,” he answered gently. “Feeling better?”

She shrugged. “I think it’s gonna take some time to get used to the idea that not only do I still have family alive, but that it’s not the kind of family I always wanted. I both want to know more and wish I didn’t know as much as I do. Kinda conflicted.”

“I understand, and it’s perfectly valid to feel that way,” Brock soothed her, his voice still low.

“I don’t… I don’t want to think about it anymore, right now.”

He nodded acceptance. “What do you want, then?”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a heated kiss. “I want to love you. I want to be loved. I want to forget everything outside our door and just be happy for a little while.”

“I think we can manage that,” Brock replied, his voice deepening as her desire reached out to him and awakened his own. He leaned down and captured her lips again, taking her breath away with a searing kiss. If she wanted to forget, he would be happy to oblige.

Warm fingers traced up Skye’s sides, pulling her shirt up. She lifted her arms and let Brock remove it, unclipped her bra and tossed that aside.

“Fast or slow?” Brock asked quietly, sliding down the bed to begin kissing her breasts. He could feel her desire, her hunger, but not the specifics of what she wanted.

Skye let out a broken little sound as he nipped very lightly at one pouting nipple. “S-slow,” she managed to get out. “Edging.” Brock’s lovemaking was never anything less than wonderful, but when she let him do that - well, it obliterated every other thought in her mind. And right now, that was exactly what she needed.

She felt him smile against her skin. “As you wish,” he rumbled softly, and then he sat up. Skye let out a small cry of loss as he moved away from her. “Sshh,” he soothed softly, unfastening his belt. “Just getting us more comfortable.” He smirked wickedly down at her. “Well. Getting me more comfortable.”

Skye frowned in confusion - and then he took both her hands in his and looped his belt around her wrists before lashing it firmly to the headrail of the bed.

“This okay, baby?” Brock checked, leaning down to kiss her lips tenderly. “All you gotta do is say the word and I’ll let you out, okay? This is to anchor you. Give you something solid to hold onto while I take you into orbit.”

Skye nodded. “I’m fine. I trust you. Just, God, _please_ touch me. I need to feel you. Please.”

Brock groaned; she knew he loved hearing her beg. He intended to hear more of it before he was done with her. “Anything for you,” he murmured to her, gliding a hand down her side and then back up to knead her breast. “It’s all for you, anything you need.” He bent down to take her nipple between his lips again, sucking slowly and flicking the peaked flesh with his tongue. She moaned softly, arching up beneath him.

He teased her slowly, lavishing attention on her breasts, nibbling lightly at her soft flesh and leaving the occasional mark for her to find in the upcoming days. She gave in, willingly letting him drive away all thought with the sensations he could evoke in her. He could feel her pleasure through the bond, a slow burn that would push aside everything else at least for a while.

“Brock, _please,_ ” she begged softly as her body writhed beneath his. “I need _more…_ ”

With a smile and a harder pull of his mouth on her breast, he slid his hand down her belly and popped the button on her jeans.Slid his hand between the denim and the soft fabric of her underwear. Her panties were damp against his fingers as they pressed in, applying pressure expertly. She gasped and then moaned again. “Yes,” she hissed out. “God, yes.”

He hummed soft agreement around her breast, but never let up his suckling on her nipple, drawing steadily on it, not quite up to the edge of pain. Skye’s hips bucked up against his hand as he rubbed through her panties, but he didn’t go any further until she moaned his name.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he lifted his head then, moved to strip the rest of her clothes from her.

“You too,” Skye begged when he made no move to take off his own clothes. “Please, Brock, I want to see you.”

He smiled, pleased, and peeled off his tight black T-shirt. Skye feasted her eyes greedily on his body as he discarded the rest of his clothes.

“Damn, you’re so sexy,” she mumbled, unable to keep from licking her lips as she watched smooth, heavy muscle ripple under his olive skin. “I’m so lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one, sweetheart,” he disagreed with a soft laugh and a shake of his head. “Look at you,” his dark gaze traced slowly over her naked, restrained form. “Barely half my age, utterly stunning. Willing to take a chance on me, to accept me.”

Skye laughed, lifted one leg and lightly traced her foot over his shoulder. Ran her toes down his chest and poked lightly at the soulmark on his stomach. “I was _made_ for you, Brock. Remember?”

“How could I forget?” he said huskily, grabbed her foot in his hand and began to kiss his way steadily up the inside of her leg. “Mine,” he growled possessively against her inner thigh. “Always. Only ever. _Mine_.” With the last word, he blew a stream of cool air over her clit and then followed it up with a broad swipe of his tongue.

Skye bucked against him, but he’d set his hands to her hips, was holding her still firmly. She wrapped her thighs around his neck and tried to pull him closer, shuddered as his laughter vibrated over her.

“You asked for slow, baby. Changed your mind?”

She was too far gone, could only let out a helpless, frantic whine.

“All right,” Brock murmured soothingly. “How about a quick one to start and _then_ I’ll take my time with you?” She was close to climax anyway, he could feel it along their bond. Edging would be almost impossible right now. She wasn’t coherent enough to reply, but the need rolling off her made his mind up for him. A few quick flicks of his tongue over her clit and she was coming, shuddering convulsively, her breath little sobbing gasps, until she went limp under him.

“Good girl,” he praised softly, “took the edge off, didn’t it? All right, let’s get started.”

Skye could only moan as he went back to work with his tongue, strong fingers joining in, sliding in and out of her soaking passage, hooking to press over the already sensitised bundle of nerves deep inside. He looked up at her, along the length of her body, and grinned at the expression of pleasure and passion on her face. Her dark eyes watched him, pupils blown wide, and in her mind she responded as much to his enjoyment of her pleasure as to the feelings he evoked in her body.

He licked and sucked as he stroked her, and her hips rocked just enough to encourage him to continue. Paying close attention to both her physical signals as well as through the bond, he took her right to the edge of orgasm and then stopped. With a moan, her hips bucked upwards; her body seeking his touch again. But he held off, let her back down from the edge in spite of her frantic, needy little sounds.

When she began to come down, taut muscles unwinding, he started again. Placed kisses on her thighs and swept his tongue lightly over her folds, building her up slowly. He held her hips, keeping her still despite her body twisting in attempt to return his touch to where she wanted it. Skye clenched her hands tightly around his belt, glad that he’d provided her with an anchor. She clung to it and to the deeply held knowledge that he always acted to keep her safe, that he loved her so very much, as she let him drive her out of her mind.

He kept at it for what felt to Skye like hours, taking her right to the edge and then stopping until she calmed a little. Each time he began again and pushed her a little higher, and then again a little higher. She could only moan and tremble, well beyond words as he played her body expertly.

Finally, when he could feel that her emotions were clear of anything but overwhelming need, Brock released Skye’s hands from the restraint. She grabbed at him frantically, nails digging into his shoulders, and he moved carefully up over her. He was so hard he felt as though he could probably hammer nails right now, and Skye was sensitive, but she wrapped her legs around his waist and keened until he eased inside her.

“Oh God, yes,” Skye’s eyes squeezed tight shut. It felt so good, so _satisfying_ , to be full at last, to have Brock deep inside her, his strong arms holding her.

“That’s it,” he whispered in her ear, his hips rolling slowly as he began to thrust. “That’s it, baby, so good, _ahhhh…_ ” her internal muscles were locking down tight on him, milking him hard as she came apart quite spectacularly in his arms, and there was no way that Brock could hold out against that, even without the extreme pleasure he could feel through their bond. He groaned, hips jerking as he spurted deep in Skye’s tight, welcoming heat.

He didn’t want to let her go, afterwards. Not even for long enough to clean up. So he rolled to his back, still inside her, still half-hard, and pulled the bedcovers over both of them. Stroked her hair soothingly until she fell asleep again, cheek pillowed on his chest.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” Brock whispered softly against Skye’s hair. “Never going to let anyone hurt you. No matter what. Your father’s never gonna get anywhere near you.”

Sound asleep, she made no reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **All together now… AWWWWW!!!**
> 
>  
> 
>  


	25. A Strange Concept Of Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson takes Brock on a mission - and asks him for a favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during the time period covering season 2 episodes 6-7 and may use portions of dialogue from these episodes._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%209_zpsqfgnuvni.jpg.html)

“Rumlow,” Coulson put his head into the small office where Brock was typing up a report, muttering under his breath the whole time (he loathed paperwork). “Got a minute?”

“Any excuse!” he was out of his chair in a moment, following the chuckling Director. “Damn, how Skye spends her day with her face in those screens I can’t imagine.”

Phil smiled wryly, closing his office door. “You should be used to it by now. I’m sure you had more reports to do as STRIKE Alpha commander?”

“I did, and believe me I’m grateful that there’s less paperwork these days and more field time. Even though that takes me away from Skye,” Brock grimaced, then shrugged. “Can’t have it all, I suppose. Now what can I do for you, Director?”

“We need to shut Christian Ward up.”

Brock blinked. “You want me to assassinate a Senator? Somehow I didn’t think that was quite your style, sir.”

“No!” Phil blinked, shocked. “Did Fury ask you to… or HYDRA… no, you know what, don’t answer that question. _No_. I don’t want you to assassinate anyone. I’m planning to offer Christian Ward a deal. I think we’ve got about everything useful that we’re going to get out of Grant. We’ll offer him up to his brother in exchange for Senator Ward publicly changing his stance on SHIELD.”

Brock thought it through for a minute. “The senator won’t let his brother go?”

“There’s no love lost there, believe me. Christian Ward will probably want a very public trial followed by an execution.” Phil saw the way Brock’s jaw tightened. “And yes, I know you have a very personal reason for wanting to kill Grant Ward yourself. But let’s be realistic here. Does it matter _how_ he dies? And if this exchange buys us some goodwill… I can’t afford to throw it away.”

“As long as Ward doesn’t start publicly spilling names we don’t want revealed - like yours, and mine, and the fact that SHIELD isn’t down for the count yet - I’ve got no problem with it,” Brock decided eventually. “What do you need me for?”

“I need to have a private chat with Senator Ward, and I want to do so from a position of power. I was thinking we’d break into his office,” Phil shrugged. “Cut his phone lines, spook him a bit. Without false flattery, you are easily the scariest person on this team. Even more than May.”

Brock grinned. “Better not let her hear you say that.”

Phil smiled back. “So, you in?”

“Sure. Sounds like fun.”

“You field agents do have the strangest concept of what constitutes _fun_.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What a lovely family,” Brock muttered to Coulson as they left Senator Ward’s office. “We need to watch out for that one. He’s a double-crossing liar, just like his brother.”

“We won’t hand Ward over until the Senator’s delivered on his promise,” Coulson agreed quietly. “And I think we’ve made our point that we can get to him any time we choose. He won’t betray us.”

“Well, if he does, I know where to find him,” Brock fingered the handle of the shockstick concealed inside his jacket. Senator Ward had definitely rubbed him the wrong way, the creep. No wonder Grant was a bit weird, growing up with a brother like that.

“Very true.”

“I know Skye will be happy to have Ward gone from the base, too,” Brock continued; left unsaid was that he’d be happier the faster Ward was gone.

“I know,” Coulson agreed. “I hated asking her to talk to him, but when I needed answers I didn’t have a lot of other options.”

Brock sighed. “We know that. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”

“No, of course not. I don’t like it; why should you?” Coulson shrugged. “At least it’ll be out of our hands.”

“Agreed.”

“I’m going to need Skye to talk to him once more, I think. You can go in as back-up, but I want you out of Ward’s sight. She’s less likely to let him get to her with your support; I know I don’t fully understand your bond, but I have seen some of its effects.”

Brock grumbled but agreed. “Fine. But this is the last time.”

“It ought to be. I’ll see him out myself; Skye can stay in the lab with Simmons at that time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock stayed on base until Ward was taken away. He stood right behind Skye, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder as Ward was paraded past. It was hard to hide his amusement when Jemma stepped protectively between Ward and Skye and promised to kill him if she ever saw him again; though Skye felt his amusement, her expression remained blank. But they did both reach out to Jemma supportively; Skye took her hand and Brock rested his free hand on her arm. She glanced back at them with a tight smile as Ward moved out of their view.

“It’s okay, Jemma,” Skye murmured softly. Jemma turned around and wrapped her arms around Skye.

“Where he’s going, he won’t hurt anyone again,” Brock said soothingly.

“I know,” Jemma answered quietly. “I’m just glad he’s gone.”

“Come on. Let’s go find a project to keep you busy,” Skye said, tugging Jemma back into the lab.

“If you ladies will excuse me, I have a meeting with Coulson when he gets back inside,” Brock spoke lightly. “But if you need me, I’ll be around.”

“We’ll be fine. Go on,” Skye said. She pulled him in for a kiss, then shooed him away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rumlow,” Coulson greeted the other man as he returned to his office. “Skye and Simmons are alright?”

“They’re fine,” Brock agreed readily. “Skye’s distracting Jemma with updating their chemical analysis program. Jemma’s handling the chemical side and Skye’s writing the update.”

“Good,” Coulson nodded. “That’s good.”

Brock surveyed the older man. Coulson looked utterly exhausted. “How are you doing, sir?” he asked quietly.

Coulson’s smile was tight-lipped. “Not great. Wishing I’d sent you to Japan and to Belgium with the others. We might have saved a few more agents.”

Brock raised his eyebrows. “What, and left this place without any expert guards but Trip? I think we both know that wouldn’t have been smart, sir.”

Coulson nodded. “I have something to ask you. I asked May, but - she’s too close. I’m not sure I can trust her to do this.”

“I’m listening, sir,” Brock said cautiously.

“The carving. It’s - out of control. Every night, now. All night. I can’t sleep and it’s starting to affect my decision process. I’ve had May look over all my operational orders and she’s picked up on a few things that I’ve missed - I need you to do the same for the Theta Protocol orders.”

“Of course, sir,” Brock agreed readily. He didn’t mention that he’d already been doing so. Blindly following orders had ended with him working for HYDRA before he realised it. He didn’t plan on going down that road again.

“One other thing.” Phil took a deep breath. “If I go genuinely mad - like Garrett did, and I know you’ve seen the footage from the Bus and Cybertek, of the way he was behaving towards the end - I want you to put me down.”

Brock sat back in his chair, lips forming into a silent whistle. “This is what you can’t trust May to do for you.”

“Yes. I asked her and… she’s set up a safe house. A cabin in the Australian Outback.” Phil’s mouth twisted. “I don’t want that. I saw what Garrett became. I’d rather die. Truly, I would _want_ to die rather than become _that_. Promise me, Rumlow. For Skye’s sake, for all of their sakes - if it comes to it, put me down, and then support May as my successor.”

For a long moment, they looked at each other. And then Brock nodded slowly. “If it gets to the point where I think there’s no hope for you, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.” Phil cleared his throat, shuffled papers on his desk for a moment. “Right. Back to business. How’s your little side project of hunting for the other enhanced soldiers going?”

“It’s just taken an interesting turn, actually. I ran into Sam Wilson - you know, Cap’s flying buddy? He’s been out and about chasing leads on Barnes, and we’ve been following the same reports of men with extraordinary strength. I bumped into him in Seattle.”

“Did you, now!” Phil tilted his head consideringly. “That’s a very useful potential ally to have on side. And a superb conduit to the Avengers. He never knew me, either.”

“I know. I’ve not mentioned your name - although Cap heard me say it a couple times, he never pushed me for more information.”

“He must have been distracted.”

“I think it was more that he recognised I was in no fucking mood for it. The first time was right after I found out Quinn had shot Skye, and the second he was barely conscious anyway, after the Triskelion battle.”

Phil winced. “I see. Well, I’m happy if you want to keep working with Wilson when the opportunity arises. Heaven knows I’d be more than happy to see Barnes safe and sound as well.”

“I’m fairly sure you’re not the only one,” Brock answered with an amused smile. “I’ll see if I can get in touch with Sam next time I’m out and about. I should probably be doing that soon anyway, given everything else that’s been going on.”

With a nod, Phil shrugged. “I haven’t pushed because I know Skye needed you here for a bit. But you probably should go see who else you can track down. Keep me posted, please.”

“Of course. In an emergency I can have Skye get your attention, too,” Brock added, chuckling. “It is one of the nice things about the soul bond - no one has figured out a way to jam the connection yet.”

Phil laughed. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t have. It’s hard to experiment on something you can’t even identify. Soulmarks are still one of the great mysteries of our world.”

“Our world would be a very different place without them, that’s for damn sure.”

“And yours has changed your life significantly,” Phil commented, his tone thoughtful. “Ever think about where you’d be if not for your connection to Skye?”

Brock frowned. “I try not to. It’s not pleasant.”

“I get that.” Coulson shrugged. “Any ideas where you’ll be headed first?”

“I’ll probably check in with Sam before I make any plans. See if he’s got any new leads since we last spoke.”

“Sounds like a good plan. Let me know what your itinerary is before you leave, please.”

“I will. I leave a copy with Skye as much as possible, too, though you know they’re prone to change sometimes.” It made Skye feel better if she had some idea of where he was going, and he obliged her as much as possible. She could hack his cell signal anyway, so there wasn’t much point in keeping his location from her.

“I’m pretty sure everyone on this base knows how that goes. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Brock was getting to his feet when the phone rang. Phil answered it, holding one finger up for Brock to wait a moment. “Hello. Senator Ward? Yes, good morning… _what did you say_?” his shoulders were suddenly tense. “How the hell did that happen? I warned your men not to take their eyes off him for a moment…”

Brock was running without even thinking about it. Ward had escaped, he’d be coming back, Brock had to get to Skye… he burst in through the lab doors. Jemma and Skye whirled to face him, Skye’s eyes widening as she felt the sudden spike in his emotions.

“On board the quinjet, fucking now!” Brock ordered, his mind racing. He’d evacuate Phil with the girls and Fitz, Trip could fly them out, he would stay and try and spring a trap for Ward when he came back… he stopped, feeling suddenly foolish.

Ward wasn’t going to come back. He knew Brock was here, that he’d be waiting. And Ward knew he was no match for Brock. Not without a whole lot more manpower and weapons. Nor did he have any idea where exactly the Playground was. He’d been taken away in a closed truck. No, Ward’s priority right now would be to get well clear.

“Fuck,” Brock sheathed the gun he’d drawn without conscious thought.

“Brock, what is it?” Skye was in front of him, reaching up to touch his face gently, her expression worried. He put his arms around her, pressed his cheek against her hair.

“Ward’s escaped custody. I wasn’t thinking clearly for a moment, panicked that he’d be coming back here for you. He won’t. Not right now, anyway. He’ll need resources.”

“He’s a Specialist, he’ll have cash and weapons hidden in safety deposit boxes all over the country,” Phil’s voice said grimly behind him. “Skye, you know what we need. Facial recognition…”

“I’ll get right on it.” With one last loving caress to Brock’s cheek, she pulled out of his arms and went to her computer.

Jemma’s hands were clenching on air. And then, without a word, she opened a drawer in her desk, took out a pistol in a holster and strapped it on her hip before going right back to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock really didn’t want to leave the Playground with Ward on the loose. But the bastard had pulled a superb disappearing trick, there was no sign of him, and he got a call from Wilson asking for assistance, so he gritted his teeth, told Trip to not let Skye and Jemma out of his sight, and headed back out. It sounded as though they were going to be busy anyway, Skye had just picked up another lead on the carvings. Some nutcase was carving them into bodies.

Hopping a flight to New York was easy and, thankfully, relatively short. It was strange having someone meet him at the airport but he greeted Wilson with a smile and a handshake.

“Rumlow,” Sam greeted him.

“Wilson,” Brock replied.

“Good to see you, man.”

“You too. So what’s this project you need help with?”

“You seem tense. Everything alright?” Sam cocked his head, looking at him curiously, and Brock was reminded that Wilson was a VA therapist and an expert at reading people.

“A guy got away from SHIELD custody; that guy is kinda obsessed with my soulmate.” Brock shrugged. “She’s safe enough on base, and with her team around her. So, I’m here to help.”

“Appreciated, man. Look, if something comes up and you have to bail, I’ll understand.” Sam’s expression was sympathetic.

“Should be okay, but I appreciate the consideration.” Brock grinned. “If something comes up bigger than her team can handle, we might need you too.”

“Hey, man, you help me and I’ll help you,” Sam agreed readily. “Keeping people safe is part of the job. So, I’ve got a lead on our missing friend that I’m hoping you can help me dig up...”

Brock  listened intently. The lead Sam had found could be Barnes, but it could also be one of the other half-dozen or so enhanced soldiers Brock knew about who’d survived HYDRA’s process, that he hadn’t been able to definitely confirm were dead. It was quite possible that one or more of them had gone rogue. Thinking of rogues, he realised he’d better fill Sam in on Ward and his capabilities. It was just possible Sam might run across him somewhere.

“What d’ya want me to do with him if I do find him?” Sam asked curiously as they walked down the street together.

“Drop him from a great height.”

Sam laughed. Brock didn’t. “Seriously, man?”

“Seriously.” Brock didn’t even break stride. “Just make sure there’s nobody below for him to land on. Follow up with a few bullets to the head, too. I’m not sure how high you’d have to drop him from to be sure of killing him, since he’s got the same enhancements I have.”

“Wow,” Sam murmured. His natural good humour reasserted itself after a moment. “Remind me not to eye up your soulmate, if I ever get to meet the lucky lady.”

Brock grinned. “That’s right, Wilson. You keep your manners around my girl and we’ll get along just fine.”

“Eh,” Sam shrugged. “Lookin’s all I’d do anyway. I’ve got a soulmate too somewhere, but it’s gonna be a real long wait. They were just born last April!”

Brock couldn’t help but chuckle and give the other man a friendly clap on the shoulder. “I hear ya, man. It’s a hard eighteen years to wait until they’re legal, at least! That said, there’s definitely good things to be said for having a soulmate more than twenty years your junior.” He waggled his eyebrows salaciously at Sam, who laughed as well.

“More than thirty years, in my case.”

“See, you lucky bastard. One day you’ll reap the benefits of all that waiting.”

They were both laughing as they walked into the police station they’d been heading for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Of course we couldn’t resist giving Sam a soulmate, too. But don’t ask who it is… we’re not telling ahead of time!**
> 
> **Please stop asking about San Juan, too - NOBODY knows but the two of us what we have planned down there, and we AIN’T TELLING. You’ll find out in about 6 more chapters ;)**  
> 
> **That said, a lot of our commenters have gone very quiet. You guys still enjoying this? We haven’t lost you?**


	26. Racing Against Time and HYDRA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Sam are working well together. SHIELD get a bead on Ward and Hunter goes for a bus ride in a cowboy hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during a time period covering season 2 episodes 7-8, and may use portions of dialogue from these episodes._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%2010_zpsaqq6xbdu.jpg.html)

Two frustrating days later, Brock and Sam were sitting in a motel room, disillusioned, looking through a stack of surveillance images on their tablets.

“Nothing,” Sam sighed eventually, keying off his tablet and tossing it on the bed. “Fucking _nothing_. If it _was_ Barnes, he’s like a damn ghost in the machine.”

Brock grunted, flipping through a few more photos. “I just wish I knew how many fucking HYDRA enhanced were running around out there.”

“Not as many as there used to be,” Sam gave him a satisfied grin. “The Avengers have been cleaning up.”

“Yeah, well,” Brock shrugged. He’d regularly slipped information to the Avengers through back channels, when Phil found HYDRA bases that were too big for SHIELD to deal with. The Avengers were a very useful wrecking ball to have on tap, he’d certainly concede that. His phone chirped in his pocket just then and he fished it out and looked at it. “It’s the boss.”

“Want me to go?” Sam offered.

“I’ll let you know if I need you to. Rumlow,” he answered the call.

“We’ve got a bead on Ward. He’s on a bus from Dallas to Boston.”

“That’ll be a long trip. Want me to intercept?” He glanced across at Sam. “I’ve got aerial support.” Sam grinned and flipped him the bird.

“Negative,” Coulson replied. “Ward’s wired with a C4 vest and a deadman switch. There’s a bunch of civilians on the bus. But so is Hunter.”

Brock grinned. “He’s gonna go stir crazy trapped on a bus for that long.”

“He’ll live. He’s gonna let us know if Ward gets off early. But I want you to meet him at the bus station in Boston, with a vehicle. Don’t let Ward see you. I want to know where he’s headed. What he intends.”

“You an’ me both,” Brock agreed. He glanced across at Sam. “Want me to bring along that aerial support?”

“I take it you mean Mr Wilson?” Phil obviously thought about it for a moment. “No. The less he knows about our operations the better, really. Gives him plausible deniability with the Avengers.”

“I still think that’s a fucking bad idea, boss…”

“Your objections are noted, Rumlow.” Phil sounded dryly amused, and brighter than Brock had heard in a long time. He couldn’t help but ask;

“Everything all right, sir?”

“Everything’s great, actually,” Phil said. “The carving’s stopped. We, um, identified some things about the map. I’ll brief you when I see you.”

“Good. And Skye?”

“She’s fine. You shouldn’t have any trouble reaching her if you have time to call on your way to Boston.”

Brock grinned. “I might do that, then. Alright, I’ll be in touch after Boston.”

“Boston?” Sam asked when Brock hung up.

“Yeah. Their escapee is on a bus to Boston, wired with C-4. They’re tailing him but the boss wants me to get to Boston first so our guy has easy access to a car and backup.”

“Where are they coming from that’s such a long trip?”

“Dallas.”

Sam snickered. “Well, that’s a trip long enough to make anyone crazy. Alright, this doesn’t sound so bad. I can do some asking around in Boston while you meet your guy, anyway. And if you need me, well…”

“Thanks, man,” Brock answered, smiling. “Damn, but it’s good to work with dependable people again.”

“As opposed to?” Sam shook his head. “STRIKE teams all seemed pretty cohesive to me.”

“It was… until I decided that HYDRA was in the wrong. And even before that, couple of guys only followed orders because they knew they couldn’t take me out.”

With a nod, Sam accepted that. “Well, though we have plenty of time to make it to Boston ahead of a bus, should we head there and get what we need? Then you can call and talk with your girl for a while if we have time to kill.”

Brock’s smile turned a little sappy, but Sam wasn’t about to say anything. After all, so few of their ilk got to have a happy ending. It was good to see at least one couple so happy together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye and Brock had plenty of time to talk on the phone after Brock rented a car for Hunter and drove it to the bus station. She filled him in on the details of the other T.A.H.I.T.I. patients and determining that Coulson’s map was a two-dimensional drawing of a three-dimensional image. They had used the 3-D imagers to make a schematic of the city, and now they just needed a way to find it.

“How are you going to do that?” he asked curiously.

“Not sure yet,” Skye answered. “I think Coulson is working on a plan. But he’s doing a LOT better. And he finally told the whole team some of it. We think the Obelisk will lead HYDRA to the city as well, so we need to try to find it first.”

“Just be careful, sweetheart.”

“I promise.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Their soulbond was still doing okay, but they both knew that the slow fading would begin soon unless they had a chance to be together in the meantime. “Are you having fun with your friend?”

“Oh, sure,” he chuckled. “Definitely keeping busy, that’s for sure. He’s following some other leads while I meet Hunter.”

“I’m glad you’re not alone out there,” she said softly. “I know you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but everyone needs help sometimes.”

“Try not to worry too much,” he told her gently. “I know it’s tough; God knows I worry about you even when I know you’re with your team. But I’m not alone out here, and everything will be okay.”

“Okay.” She sighed softly. “I miss you.”

“I know, sweetheart. I miss you too. Maybe I can talk to Coulson, see if we can get a weekend or a few days off, go somewhere? Just the two of us.”

“That sounds lovely,” Skye said wistfully.

“Then I’ll definitely make it happen.”

“You do that.” Skye sounded happier than she had in a while, in spite of the situation with Ward, and Brock was content to hear it. “Anyway, I think I’d better go. I’m getting a Look from May.”

“Give her my regards, and go kick ass,” Brock told her with a grin. “Love you, Skye.”

“I love you. Stay safe.” He held onto the phone a moment longer until he knew she’d disconnected and then sighed to himself. Though Coulson gave him far more leeway in his missions than Fury ever had, Brock still hated being away from Skye for long stretches of time. Still, what they both did was necessary. If HYDRA was allowed to run unchecked - or with minimal adversaries - the world wouldn’t be worth living in, even if they were together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock looked askance at Hunter’s cowboy hat as the Brit opened the door and slid into the car beside him. “Seriously?”

“Ah c’n evahn do thah accent,” Hunter said.

“That is an absolutely terrible Texas accent. Please don’t.”

Hunter grinned. “I won’t tell you about how much Bobbi likes it when I wear the hat and do the accent, then.”

“Oh God, PLEASE don’t.”

They were both laughing as Brock started the car. “Now please tell me you put a tracker on him?” he asked, his eyes on Ward as the other man walked down the street. “Because it’s going to be really difficult for us to follow him inconspicuously otherwise.”

“Of course I put a fucking tracker on him. Guy had to piss sometime. He got a little sloppy, left his backpack in the overhead locker.” Hunter smirked. “He thought I was asleep.”

“Good job,” Brock nodded.

They followed Ward to a bar and called Coulson, who told them that May and Bobbi were on the way in.

“Fucking hell,” Brock slid lower in his seat suddenly, snatched Hunter’s cowboy hat and put it on, pulling it low over his eyes.

“What?” Hunter glanced across at him.

“That guy going in. That’s Sunil Bakshi, Whitehall’s right-hand man. Ward’s meeting with HYDRA. Going back into the fold, from the looks of that.”

“May,” Hunter said over the comm, “we have a problem.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May made the call to storm the bar, when Ward, Bakshi and the other HYDRA agents didn’t come out quickly. “A fast, clean shot,” she said, looking at Brock, who nodded and drew his gun. Right between Ward’s eyes, he fully intended to put the bullet.

Only, Ward wasn’t in the bar. Only dead men. And Sunil Bakshi, secured to a chair, a piece of duct tape over his mouth with _For Coulson_ written on it. He stared up at Brock from astonished eyes as Brock leaned in to rip the tape away.

“Rumlow!” a smile spread across Bakshi’s face. “Man, is it ever good to see _you_. We thought you were dead, after Project Insight failed! Rollins thought you’d turned, but I knew you couldn’t have…”

Brock smiled mirthlessly. “Oh, I’m afraid Rollins was quite right about me, Sunil.”

The smile disappeared. “What?”

“I’m not HYDRA, Sunil. I’m SHIELD. _True_ SHIELD.” He bent, slashed through the duct tape binding Bakshi to the chair. “And I’m afraid you’re not going to like it very much where we’re going now.”

Bakshi’s horrified scream was like music to Brock’s ears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let Morse question him,” Coulson said to Brock as they stood watching the man sitting in Vault D on the monitors. “You gave him a nasty shock, that should have rattled him. She’s good at getting into people’s heads. I gave Skye his phone, she’ll get what she can out of that. We’re going to be leaving soon, though, for Hawaii and then Australia so we can hack the satellite network we need to find the city. I need you to stay here.”

Brock started slightly. “What? But you’re taking Skye, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and I still need you to stay here. I’m taking Trip with us, but this is not going to be a dangerous mission. The only guns around will be ours, trust me. But if Ward surfaces again, you’re the one I need on his tail.”

“Well, if he’s bussing around the US I don’t suppose he’ll make it to Australia anytime soon,” Brock grumbled, even as he accepted Coulson’s decision. “Fine, I’ll stay. I suppose Skye needs to be in proximity to hack this?”

“Understatement. We’re going to have to do some fairly complex work just to give her the opportunity,” Coulson explained in a mild tone. “But I intend to have Fitz do the hardware work and then let Skye do her thing, so she’ll most likely be on the Bus most of the time anyway.”

Brock nodded. “I got it. When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. Give you and Skye a little time together; it’s about all we can afford with how quickly things are moving.”

“We appreciate the consideration,” Brock gave Phil a tight smile, his expression understanding though still not terribly happy.

“It’s hard on you two, I know,” Phil’s voice dropped a bit in sympathy. “I wish I could give you more time, but…”

“We’re in a race against HYDRA. We both know it,” Brock replied. “We’ll manage. We’ve come this far. Can’t quit now.”

“I’m glad you agree. Go pull Skye out of her office. You both take the evening to yourselves. If something comes up, I’m sure you’ll know about it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Brock shrugged, then headed out of Coulson’s office. Oh, well. He would’ve probably wound up taking Skye away from her work with or without permission. Nice of Coulson to give it anyway.

“Hey, baby,” he opened Skye’s office door without knocking. “You ready to take a break?”

She turned to face him, and he stiffened. Her face was very pale, her eyes wide.

“What is it?” Brock shoved the door closed behind him, reached her in two massive strides. She had a phone in her hand, he saw. “Bakshi’s phone - what did you find?” He wouldn’t put anything past that bastard, but it must be pretty sick if it had Skye looking like this.

She shook her head almost convulsively. “Not - _that_. Ward called.”

A low, rumbling snarl broke free from Brock’s chest and he reached for her, even as she threw the phone onto the desk.

“The utter, freaking _gall_ of that _bastard_!” Skye’s eyes flashed as her rage built. “Leaving us Bakshi like a cat dragging in a dead bird and expecting me to be _grateful_!”

Brock’s arms dropped, and he stared as Skye started to pace, her boot heels rattling a staccato beat on the concrete floor. “The fucking _asshole_. Said he’d see me soon. Not if I fucking see him first, I’ll fucking put a bullet in him! A whole fucking _clip_ in him!”

“Eh,” Brock recovered from his surprised awe at seeing Skye angry, “always save a few for other enemies. Three or four should be sufficient.”

She paused in her pacing long enough to toss him a grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You are really beautiful when you’re angry,” he couldn’t help but say. She was magnificent, her hair tossing, her eyes flashing with rage.

She glared at him for a moment before her expression softened just a little and she grumbled a little, “Of course you’d say that. If only so I don’t scream at you.” She stuck her tongue out at him, her anger mellowing just a little. She paced back and forth a few more times.

“Hey, now,” he protested. “I’d never lie to you.” He winced as soon as he said it, though; it was all too reminiscent of what Ward kept trying to tell her.

“Of course _you_ wouldn’t. Unlike some other fucking assholes I know.” She threw her hands into the air, gesturing angrily. She stared at Brock for a long moment, then muttered, “Fuck it.” She threw herself at him, trusting him to catch her. She pulled him into a rough kiss, nipping at his lips. She reached behind him as they hit the wall and flipped the lock on the door.

Brock groaned, arms wrapping tightly around her the moment her body hit his. He returned her kisses; from the feel over the bond, she wasn’t in the mood for slow or patient right now. But he could work with that. Hell, he _wanted_ to work with that. He was already hard; had been from the moment he realised she was angered instead of frightened by Ward’s call.

Slim legs wrapped around his waist, he put a hand under her bottom to hold her steady, and Skye started grinding against him. Brock’s eyes almost rolled back in his head.

“Skye. Sweetheart,” he dragged his mouth from hers long enough to say. “Clothes. Off.”

She ripped his shirt open down the front, buttons flying everywhere. With a low chuckle in his throat, he carried her over to her desk, cleared a space with a sweep of his arm - feeling a certain satisfaction as Bakshi’s phone clattered to the floor - and set her on it. “You want rough, you can have rough,” he promised darkly, shrugging out of the ruined shirt and stooping to yank his boots off, watching as she nearly ripped her own clothes yanking them off.

“Come here,” Skye demanded as he stepped out of his pants, kicking them aside, and stood before her naked and very much aroused. He didn’t hesitate, stepping forward and putting his arms around her, kissing her hungrily again, but letting her take the lead when she bit at his lower lip and dug her nails hard into his thick chest muscles. Wrapping her legs around his waist again, Skye tilted her hips to rub against his erection, moaning in her throat as his swollen cock chafed over her clit.

“Oh God, yeah,” Brock moaned as slick wetness coated him. “That’s it, baby, take what you want.”

She pushed at his chest, shoving him to sit down in her office chair, and was in his lap a moment later, straddling him. She attacked his lips again, nipping and sucking hard as she kissed him. Her nails bit into his shoulders as she wriggled her hips, seeking just the right spot. When she felt his cock nudging against her entrance, she shifted her hips and slid down on him hard and fast.

Skye couldn’t help moaning as she began to ride him, almost slamming their hips together in her urgency. She’d never felt this uninhibited before, not even when she and Miles would fuck after a fight. Her anger fueled her, gave her energy, and Brock just settled his hands on her hips to help lift her faster.

“Fuck,” she swore as her lips tore away from his, gasping for breath. She nibbled her way down his neck, then bit him at the juncture where neck met shoulder. When he only groaned in appreciation, she bit harder - enough to leave a mark, not enough to break skin. “Mine,” she growled, her voice low.

“Always,” he agreed in response to her demanding tone. He held her tight, supporting her as she took what she wanted. He could feel her through the bond, felt her pleasure growing more intense as she rode him faster and more desperately. He worked one hand between them, pressed his thumb against her clit, and smiled when she moaned again.

“ _Brock_ ,” Skye almost wailed it, dropping her head to his shoulder, though her rhythm never slowed.

“Come on, love,” he grated in her ear. “Come on, I can feel how close you are. Come with me. I’m fuckin’ loving this, you magnificent woman. Ahhhh, _yeahhhh…_ ” as she began to clench around him, the explosion of pleasure along their bond blowing his mind completely.

After a couple of minutes, Skye began to giggle weakly against his shoulder. Brock only smiled, stroking her hair slowly. “Needed that, didn’t you?” She felt so _satisfied_ to him now, like a cat licking cream from its whiskers.

“You,” she pulled back to look at him, “are always _exactly_ what I need.”

“Soulmate,” he shrugged with a grin. They kissed, long and slow, and sensual enough that Brock found himself beginning to harden again inside Skye. She leaned back and raised an eyebrow at him. “What?” he grinned. “I can’t help my refractory period. Not my fault. Blame HYDRA.”

“I blame them for a lot of things. I might have to thank them for that one, though,” Skye murmured as he began to shift his hips, gentle little thrusts inside her.

“So when we find them, we’ll just kill them,” Brock said, his tone teasing. “Instead of getting payback.”

Skye smirked. “Maybe. We’ll see.” She shifted her hips, moving with him slowly. “God, you feel so fucking _good_ inside me,” she moaned.

Brock didn’t reply. Instead he wrapped his arms around her waist, silently asking her through the bond to lean back and trust him to hold her up. She leaned in to kiss him, then complied; she was grateful that she had when his mouth sought her breast, sucking lightly as their lower bodies rocked together.

He felt her pleasure building, slower this time; a slow burn in her lower belly. Her thighs tensed as her hips rocked a little faster, urging him on. Soft moans escaped her lips, music to his ears, and he rumbled low in his chest in response.

Abruptly Skye sat up in his arms, pushing his shoulders back until he let her go. She kissed him swiftly, then pulled away and stood up. She placed her hands on the desk, bending over it and then looked back at him with an expression of amusement at his startled reaction. “Back inside me. Now. Just… I need this.”

She barely finished speaking before he was abruptly inside her again, their soulmarks pressed together. “Anything you need, love,” he whispered in her ear. He delighted in the sounds of her ecstatic moaning, felt her pleasure as their bond flared bright again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ah, Brock - always exactly what Skye needs.**


	27. Forebodings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock observes Bobbi's interrogation of Bakshi while Coulson's crew go to Australia to hack the satellites. Meeting back up, he accompanies May and Skye to Vancouver to pick up Raina before they go to join Coulson in San Juan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during a time period covering Season 2 episodes 8-9, and contains dialogue from both episodes._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/Rumskye%2011_zpstaovsqas.jpg.html)

“Love you, baby. Be careful,” Brock farewelled Skye with a kiss and a hug as they stood at the bottom of the Bus’s ramp the following morning.

“Always. You too,” she stroked his cheek, smiling up at him, pouring love through the bond.

“Damn, you two, break it up,” Trip catcalled as he walked past. “Wheels up in five.”

“Do not break my Bus,” May said as she walked past in the other direction.

“Yes ma’am,” Trip replied with a grin and a wink.

“And you better damn well look after Skye,” Brock said. She punched him lightly in the stomach.

“I’ll look after myself, thanks very much. _And_ Fitz and Coulson.” She tapped meaningfully on the gun holstered at her hip.

“I know you will, baby,” he sent her warm, loving approval. “You know I’m still gonna worry about you anyway until I’ve got you right back where you belong.”

“I know.” She nestled against him for a moment longer, and then the cargo ramp started to beep. Laughing, she pulled away, but Brock stood watching until the ramp was entirely closed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock sauntered into the room where Morse watched Bakshi pacing in his cell on the video screen. “Hey,” he greeted her. “Still shaken up, or has he settled down?”

Morse shrugged lightly but tossed him a small smile over her shoulder. “Well, I think you shook him up pretty good. But not much rattles his type for very long.”

Brock settled into a chair, watching the man on the screen. “Well, if you need him shaken again, I can handle that. But in the meantime, I’m interested in observing your interrogation. Coulson approved it, but I wanted to be sure you’re okay with it too.”

With a snicker, Morse turned to look at him. “I heard about the bang-up job you did on Ward. I tend to be a little more… subtle.”

“Yeah, I don’t do that thing so well. Hence wanting to observe.”

“I don’t mind,” she agreed readily. “It’s all going to be recorded anyway, and both Coulson and May will be reviewing whatever they don’t watch live.”

“One quick thing - he said he’d been told by Rollins that I’d turned, and that they heard I was dead,” Brock told her. “If he knows anything more about Rollins, I’d love to hear about it.”

“I’ll see what I can do. The priority is Whitehall, at the moment.”

“I get that. And I’m guessing Rollins told him before the Triskelion went down, which is probably why they tried to have me assassinated.”

Bobbi’s eyebrows went up at that. “I should think you’re a hard man to kill.”

“More than you know. But so would Rollins be. I’ve assumed that a helicarrier and a building falling on him did the job, but - I’ve been starting to wonder, lately. Some of the HYDRA operations I’ve been hearing about just seem like they’ve got his fingerprints all over them.”

“All right.” Bobbi nodded. “I’ll drop it in, if I need a change of topic.” She stood, heading for the door, turned to glance at him. “Bakshi’s not enhanced, is he?”

Brock startled. He hadn’t even thought of that! One glance at the man on the screen, though, and he shook his head. “Not like I am, if he is at all. The cuts and bruises he had when we brought him in yesterday haven’t started healing yet.”

“Good.” Bobbi smiled. “Not that I couldn’t break him even if he _was_ enhanced, obviously.”

“You ever done it before?” he had to ask. She tightened her lips, but shook her head eventually.

“Not an enhanced. But, Rumlow, even the enhanced are still human. They have their weaknesses. Finding them is my specialty.” Her blue eyes were dark as she nodded to him and headed down to the vault.

Hunter and Mack turned up to watch with Rumlow. Hunter kept making snarky remarks about Bobbi, which amused Brock no end. The two of them were definitely heading towards something - fight or fuck, possibly both. Mack was a bit of a concern, though, muttering darkly about Coulson leaving people in the dark.

“He’s Director of SHIELD,” Brock said, never taking his eyes off the screen. “Trust me, Mack, there’s some things you don’t _want_ to know.” Simmons arrived just then and he smiled at her, invited her to pull up a seat. No doubt she’d gain a certain visceral satisfaction from seeing Bobbi break Bakshi, even if Morse used her mind games instead of physical violence. Bakshi had frightened Jemma more than once when she was undercover, Brock knew from reading her dead-drop reports.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During a break in the interrogation, May requested some assistance in tracking down files that could be relevant to HYDRA. Brock and Jemma agreed to help out and followed May to Coulson’s office. Once there, May unlocked a couple of old cabinets, saying that Coulson had meant to go through them when they first moved into the base, but never got around to it.

They worked for a while, quietly, until Jemma began to get excited.

“I've found decades of research, and it's incomplete. But I did find the original 0-8-4 report signed by Agent Carter herself,” Jemma held a file folder tightly in her hands. Brock thought she looked like she’d just unearthed a priceless treasure.

May walked over and glanced at it. “Anything on Red Skull?” she asked.

“Did you hear what I said? Peggy Carter, founder, happens to be British, held this in her hand!” Jemma chuckled, then sighed when May just looked at her. Brock laughed quietly; Simmons was adorable when she got excited, and he didn’t feel particularly bad about thinking it because he knew Skye agreed with him. “No. Anyway, um... no Red Skull, but a lot of references to one of his commanders, Werner Reinhardt.”

“Yeah, it says the Howling Commandos grabbed him and the Obelisk in '45.” May’s voice was quiet, thoughtful as she leafed through the folder..

“Yes, and it cites intake interviews, but all the important documents on him are missing.” Jemma’s tone turned exasperated. “I question Coulson's filing skills, to be honest.”

Brock smothered another chuckle as he joined Jemma to glance over the file. May moved away from them, and he heard the hiss of air as she opened a panel in the wall. Pulling out a key, she said, “Vault D? Not the only vault.”

The trio made their way down a set of stairs, following as May led them to a dimly lit hallway with a series of locked doors. She unlocked one of them with the key and said, as they made their way downwards, “Agent Carter buried a lot of things here.”

They sifted through the files, joined by Hunter when he got bored with watching Bakshi pace on the video feed. There was quite a lot there, organized chronologically and by project.

“Sorting paperwork, the life none of us chose,” Hunter commented caustically.

“I’d rather be sorting old paperwork than completing my own,” Brock grumbled back, amused by the Brit’s snide commentary.

“Too right, mate,” Hunter agreed. “Hang on, hang on. I’ve got it.”

A surge of jumbled feelings suddenly hit Brock through the bond as Jemma and May went to look at the file Hunter held. He tuned out the conversation as he tried to make sense of Skye’s emotions. He felt fear, anger, grief and worry all mixed up together. He reached out to her, trying to soothe her as best he could from a distance. She was too far away; he was able to help her calm down but he didn’t know what was causing her to feel so upset to begin with.

Pulling out his phone, Brock realized that he had no signal down in the Vault. He glanced around, noticing that Hunter had left while he was distracted. He didn’t think anything of it, knowing he’d missed whatever conversation had happened.

“Rumlow? You alright?” May asked quietly as she approached, leaving Jemma to return the other files to their storage boxes.

Trust May to notice every little detail, even his inattention.

“Something’s upset Skye, but I can’t tell what from here,” he answered in a low voice.

May’s expression tightened. “If something happened, we’ll hear about it shortly. Come on; let’s get back upstairs.” Brock nodded and headed for the door. “Simmons? Come on, we can finish this later.”

“Be right there,” Jemma called back.

Brock was first up the steps, tapping out a text on his phone. _Skye? What’s going on? Mission problem?_

It took a few moments for the message to come back. _No. Mission’s a go. But Trip’s been wounded. My father was here._

He froze, fingers clenching on the phone. No wonder her emotions were so messed up. _Did you see him?_

_No. Coulson, Fitz and Trip did, though. He nearly killed Trip. We’re on our way home. Stop panicking._

Brock’s teeth clenched. And then he looked up at the sound of shouting, of Hunter yelling Jemma’s name, racing down the corridor. “What the fuck?”

“Bakshi!” Hunter gasped. “Cyanide capsule in his cheekbone…”

Brock started running.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took several hours for them to get Bakshi stabilised. Jemma was a mess over it, her hands shaking as she moved around the hospital bed, adjusting drug dosages. Brock sat beside her in case Bakshi woke up and tried anything.

“I met Peggy Carter, you know,” he said conversationally, trying to distract Jemma.

“I remember you talked about her,” she said thoughtfully and turned to look at him. “How did you meet?”

“When I first came to SHIELD. She came down to the gym one day - it was the year before she retired as Director - and she stood there and looked us all over, and then she walked out saying loudly, “Bunch of pussies.”

“She did not!” Jemma’s mouth fell open, and Brock grinned. _Distraction tactic successful._

“She certainly did. She’d long since given up teaching by that point - she was in her seventies and getting too frail for it - but one of her protegees, Agent Martinez, was STRIKE Team Alpha commander then, and I can tell you that woman kicked ass better than Melinda May.”

Jemma looked as though she didn’t believe him. And then they both looked up as they heard the roar of the Bus’s engines.

“They’re back,” Jemma said unnecessarily.

“Yup.” Brock checked Bakshi’s restraints - he was secured firmly. “All right, he’s safe to leave. Come on. Trip needs attention.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye tossed and turned in her sleep, caught in a nightmare of an empty base. She called out to anyone who might hear - Coulson, Brock, May, Simmons… but no one answered. She cried out again when the dream images of Coulson and May left the baby girl behind.

Brock woke to the sound of Skye’s voice, calling out something about not leaving her. He rolled onto his side and stroked her cheek, murmuring softly in attempt to soothe her out of her nightmare. When that failed to work, he shook her arm gently, trying to wake her.

“No, no,” she mumbled, still caught in the dream. As the box began to turn her to stone, she called out in a panic, “No! Brock, help me!” She startled awake suddenly, sitting up in bed. Brock moved to sit beside her, wrapping her in his arms.

“Shh, sweetheart. I’m right here,” he murmured. She leaned into his embrace, panicked emotions stirred by the dream fading slowly. “Always here if you need me. I promise, love.”

“I couldn’t feel you,” she sobbed into his neck. “Couldn’t feel the bond. And they just left her, left that poor baby…” The dream was already fading, though, and when he asked;

“What baby?” In her dream-induced utter confusion, she couldn’t really tell him.

“All right, sweetheart.” He stroked her back, rocked her against him gently. “It’s all right. I’m here. I won’t leave you. It was just a dream, everything’s going to be all right.” He poured all the love and reassurance he was capable of into the bond, and at last she quieted and drifted off to sleep again.

Brock, however, lay awake staring at the ceiling until dawn came. An awful premonition was creeping over him, that something terrible was coming, and he couldn’t stop it. He tightened his arms around Skye’s sleeping form.

“No matter what, my love,” he whispered against her hair, “I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coulson called them all up for a mission briefing early that morning. Trip still didn’t look so hot, but he was on his feet, shaking his head at Jemma as she tried to fuss over him.

“Here’s what we know,” Coulson began. “HYDRA’s on the move. They have the Obelisk and an expert who knows how to use it.”

Brock’s lips tightened as he listened. Unconsciously, he moved closer to Skye. She leaned against him silently, seeking his reassuring warmth.

“So we’re going to blow the hell out of it,” Coulson finished. “Before HYDRA can get to it. I’m taking a team consisting of Fitz, Simmons, Mack and Morse, direct to San Juan. We’ll survey the tunnels and blow the temple.”

“And the rest of us, sir?” May asked a beat before Brock opened his mouth.

Coulson smiled. “Raina’s popped up again. In Vancouver. Billy and Sam Koenig have her there. HYDRA tried to grab her, they must think she can help them with the Obelisk somehow. We need to keep her out of their hands. May, you and Rumlow take the Bus with Hunter,Trip and Skye. Go get Raina and the Koenigs, then meet us in Puerto Rico. You run across any HYDRA agents - well, you know what to do.” He looked at Skye. “I’d like you to run point on Raina’s interrogation. I think she’ll open up to you.”

“And if she doesn’t, sir?” Brock said.

“Then perhaps she’ll open up to you, Agent Rumlow.” Coulson met his eyes steadily, and Brock nodded. “All right. Time to go. I’ll see you in San Juan.”

“Tell me I don’t have to watch you two being all lovey-dovey all the way to Vancouver,” Hunter grumbled as he followed Brock up the Bus’s ramp.

Skye hung back long enough to give Coulson a quick hug. “See you there. Sir,” she said quietly before hurrying after the others.

“You don’t have to watch, no,” Brock grinned over his shoulder at the Brit.

“And _you_ need to be resting,” Skye pointed at Trip as she caught up. “Go on. May won’t let you fly her precious Bus anyway. Go lie down. Jemma will have my head if I don’t keep you from doing anything silly.”

Trip grinned. “Orders to go take a nap, yeah baby!” He did a little fist-pump before heading for the stairs.

“I don’t suppose I can get orders to go take a nap too?” Hunter said hopefully.

Skye gave him a Look. Hunter sighed.

“I suppose I could clean and check the weapons we’re going to need.”

“I’ve got some scans to run anyway,” Skye said. “So I’ll be in the command centre.” Brock followed her, the feelings of foreboding that had crept up on him in the night intensifying all the time. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight.. He stood beside her when she hopped up on the control table and she leaned against him as she opened her laptop and began to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrived in Vancouver without incident. May, Hunter and Brock split up, seeking out the HYDRA operatives that the Koenigs had identified and Skye had continued to track as they moved, searching for Raina. Skye was sent to the apartment where Sam - only it turned out to be Billy - had taken Raina.

They were on their way out when Agent 33 found them. Skye took the offensive, yelling for Billy to get Raina to the stairs. She felt Brock’s flare of concern over the bond but she shut it out, needing all her attention on the fight. The two fought furiously, though Skye attempted more than once to convince the other agent that they could help her.

Skye used every trick May had taught her, but it was clear that 33 was the more experienced agent and Skye was outmatched. 33 grabbed the gun when Skye was down; rescue came in the form of her soulmate, barreling into the room and slamming 33’s head into the floor as he took her down.

Sighing in relief, Skye pushed herself up off the floor. Brock was at her side a split second later, helping her up. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” she said. “A bit battered but I’ll be fine.”

Hunter rushed into the room a second later. “There’s more coming - what the hell is that?” he exclaimed, catching sight of the unconscious woman on the floor.

Skye explained and Hunter just looked startled. “And I thought the Koenigs were creepy,” he commented after looking at the downed agent for a moment.

Skye and Brock shared a glance and they headed out, Skye telling Hunter to let Coulson know they were on the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock stood in the command center, watching through the window as Skye spoke with Raina. He didn’t like the woman; couldn’t trust her. He knew that Skye should be safe enough on the Bus with the team, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was going too smoothly.

Skye reassured her soulmate silently. Then talk with Raina turned to her father. And their difference - what made them unique, special. It was both startling and a little disturbing, but Skye worked to keep her emotions under control so she wouldn’t worry Brock anymore than he already was. But the more she listened, the more Raina’s words evoked that same feeling of _something wrong_ that had been lingering since her nightmares began.

When Raina stopped talking, Skye excused herself and headed straight to the control room and Brock. May joined them quickly. Brock’s feeling of unease combined with Skye’s, and Skye grew more intent to call Coulson and warn the team away from the city.

She’d tried and failed to reach Phil when Whitehall’s voice came over their comms system demanding they stand down and allow a HYDRA representative to retrieve Raina. May gave orders for everyone - Raina excluded - to arm themselves, and the team obeyed.

Then Ward stepped onto the plane. And Skye’s feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong intensified.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note: The conversation between Jemma and Bobbi in episode 9 happened essentially as it did in the series with one exception. Jemma explains that she has a soulmark and after seeing how happy Skye is with her soulmate, she wants that too. So she’s waiting. With Fitz, she just wants her best friend back.**


	28. She's The Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Skye confront Ward on the plane; Ward gets help from an unexpected quarter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter take place during Season 2 episodes 9-10, and contains dialogue from those episodes._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/10933_5_zps69ae3ed0.jpg.html)

Brock’s teeth bared instinctively and his gun came up, drawing a bead on Ward’s forehead.

“Stand down, Agent Rumlow!” May’s voice cracked to his left.

For a long, tense moment, nobody moved. And then Ward smiled.

“Lower your weapons. Anyone shoots, the plane goes down, and we _all_ die.” His eyes slid across to Skye before coming back to Brock, and he raised a mocking eyebrow.

Brock snarled, but he lowered the gun slowly.

“Maybe it’s worth it,” May said dryly.

“Let’s not get carried away just yet,” Hunter said, echoing Brock’s thoughts. If Ward had been sent by Whitehall just for Raina - well, May was right. Let HYDRA have the conniving bitch. She wasn’t worth dying for.

Skye spoke up. “First you gave us Bakshi, now you’re back with HYDRA. Pick a side, Ward.”

“Oh, I have,” Ward nodded slowly, his eyes locked with Skye’s. “Don’t worry.” He turned, looked at Raina. “Let’s go.”

“With pleasure,” Raina nodded, heading for the stairs.

Ward turned back to look at Skye. “You too.”

“Oh _no_.” Brock’s gun came back up as he realised Ward’s intention.

“Brock, no!” Skye screamed as she felt his sudden spike of rage.

And May shot him three times with her ICER.

Skye screamed again as Brock’s body slumped to the floor, went to her knees beside him, but she could already see that he was just deeply unconscious. Her shaking fingers caressed his face lovingly.

“That was a smart decision,” Ward nodded at May. “Thank you, May.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” May spat back at him.

“I’m sure. Come on, Skye. I made you a promise. I’m here to keep it. You’re coming with us.” He was looking at May, though. “She comes or the deal’s off.”

May was silent, staring back at him.

“May,” Skye swallowed her tears and stood. “If I don’t go with him, he’s going to blow this plane to pieces. And everyone on it.”

“They’re HYDRA. They’ll do it anyway,” Trip growled.

“You can’t trust him, Skye,” May warned softly.

“Yes you can,” Ward said smoothly. “I give you my word. Come with me, we won’t fire a single shot.”

He was lying, and Skye knew it. But she still had a possible ace up her sleeve. One possibility that might just give May and Brock a shot at fixing this. Brock would be able to track her through the bond. And Ward, for some reason, needed _her_ alive.

“Whatever happens, I can handle myself,” she said quietly, meeting May’s eyes. She glanced down at Brock’s limp body, then back up at May. And then she turned to Ward. “I’ll go with you.” He smiled and took her gun from her hand.

“Oh, Skye,” Raina said sweetly. “Don’t forget your tablet. You know, the one with the map of the city on it.”

“I’m so gonna kill you the minute I get the opportunity,” Skye hissed at Raina as they climbed into the HYDRA quinjet. Ward was last in and the jet disengaged and lifted off immediately.

“I’ll take that, thank you,” Ward took the tablet from Skye. “Get us to a five mile distance and then open fire,” he ordered his pilot casually. Turning to look at Skye, he shrugged. “Sorry, Skye. Orders.”

“I knew I couldn’t trust you not to lie to me,” Skye spat at Ward. As she spoke, she lunged for one of the soldiers standing beside her - not to attack, but to snatch the sidearm from the holster on his belt.

“Skye, Skye,” Ward tisked, his tone patronizing. “No matter who you kill, that plane is still going down.”

“Even me?” Skye clicked off the safety and pressed the gun in against her own throat. She watched Ward’s eyes widen as he froze. “Call them off, Ward, or I die when Brock does.”

Cursing loudly and in several languages, Ward turned back to the pilot. “Cancel that last order. Give the order to depart.”

“What’s the range on those missiles?” she demanded.

“Eight miles.” Ward ground his teeth, unhappy but fully aware that even the men standing by her couldn’t grab the gun faster than she could pull the trigger.

“Let’s give it fifty. Just so you don’t get any ideas. And remember - I’d know if Brock died. No matter what the range.” She held his eyes fearlessly.

Skye waited silently until Ward nodded. She remained where she was, back to the wall and gun ready to fire for what felt like forever but was probably not all that long realistically.

“Sir, we’re about to leave firing range,” she heard the pilot inform Ward. She was pretty sure they were beyond eight miles, but hopefully her fifty requirement would be enough.

“Continue on,” Ward ordered, irritation evident in his tone.

“Copy that, sir,” the pilot replied.

Skye just smirked and continued to wait.

“You’re going to have to hand over that gun before we reach our destination,” Ward told her.

“When we get there, I’ll do that.”

“And where is it, exactly?” He looked down at the tablet in his hands.

“San Juan, Puerto Rico,” Raina was the one who answered, going to Ward’s side and touching the tablet. “They really have done very well. Done all the necessary work for us. Look, here’s a perfect map of the city. This, right here? This is the temple.”

Skye ground her teeth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Secure him in the Cage!” May shouted at Hunter, pointing down at Brock’s body, before she and Trip ran for the cockpit.

“Think we better had because I really do not want to be the one to tell him that we just let Ward take Skye,” Hunter muttered. “Come on, Billy, lend a hand.”

“I’m Sam, when will you learn the difference?”

“When I figure out if there is one. Fuck me, he’s a heavy bastard!”

It took all three of them to haul Brock’s limp form to the Cage and strap him down to the bed. Hunter half expected them to be blown out of the sky at any moment, but it seemed Skye must have had a plan. Then May’s voice came over the intercom.

“Strap in, it’s about to get bumpy!”

“And here it comes,” Hunter said dryly. “Our imminent fiery death.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to Hunter’s amazement, they didn’t die in a flaming explosion. There _was_ an explosion, though, a few minutes later when Rumlow woke up and found himself strapped down in the Cage. His roar of rage was heard throughout the plane.

“I am _not_ going in there,” Hunter said when both Koenigs looked at him. “May shot him. Let _her_ explain herself.”

The Koenigs exchanged a glance and then shrugged. A few minutes later, Trip emerged from the cockpit to check on everyone.

“You three alright?” he asked readily.

“Sure,” Sam agreed. “But we’ve agreed to let Agent May handle Rumlow.”

Trip snickered. “Uh huh. Wimps.” With a cheery grin he left the room, heading towards the Cage. He let himself in and leaned in the doorway. “Can I let you out of there, or are you gonna tear someone’s head off?”

“She fucking let Ward take Skye, didn’t she?” Brock growled out, his eyes alight with fury.

“Not like any of us really had a choice,” Trip replied. “Skye’s a tough girl, man, she can look out for herself. I expect she’s the reason we had so long before we got attacked, any rate. We’re not dead, and she surely knows that. Or at least she knows that _you’re_ not dead. Which amounts to the same thing.”

“Get out,” Brock rumbled. “She’s in the _last fucking place_ she should’ve ever been, and you all let it happen. I ain’t calmin’ down from this for a while.”

Trip shrugged and moved into the room to undo the restraints. “Cameras are on, man,” he informed Rumlow on his way out the door. “Yell if you need anything; otherwise we’ll see you when we land.”

Brock sat down, seething. Even Skye’s distracted attempts to calm him were futile, though he did relax just slightly when he felt that she was unharmed so far.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were almost to San Juan when Skye felt Brock wake up. Or, rather, felt the surge of rage that accompanied his awakening. Skye sat, gun still in hand though no longer pointed at herself unless Ward got too close. Keeping her eyes on the soldiers around her, she attempted to calm her soulmate with the knowledge that she was okay. And that she would far rather be here and know he was alive than know everyone was dead.

Ward and Raina transmitted data from her tablet to HYDRA when they got in range, and Skye silently fumed. _Though maybe I can’t calm Brock down because I’m too pissed, too,_ she thought to herself.

“All right, we’re landing,” Ward stood in front of her. “Hand it over, Skye. Your precious Brock’s still alive.”

“You won’t be for long,” she promised, handing the gun over. She did debate for a moment shooting him with it, but - the other HYDRA commandos were watching her, their guns out. _Where there’s life, there’s hope_ , Skye told herself. She could feel Brock getting closer all the time, though the hot red rage that filled his thoughts worried her. It made her feel angrier herself, and just as their lovemaking fuelled each other’s ecstasy, the feedback loop of rage was building higher and higher between them.

Skye wondered for a moment if she could break the chain reaction by trying to shut herself off from Brock. But no - no, she wouldn’t do that, not now when she needed so badly to feel their bond. She took a deep breath. _Focus on something else._

Though she couldn’t stop the spike of rage when Ward cuffed her hands together in front of her, and she knew that Brock felt it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s he fucking DOING to her!” Brock hit a wall, felt it shudder.

“Agent Rumlow,” May’s voice was chill and calm. “You need to calm down. Do not let your anger take control here. You are of no use to Skye if you can’t calm down.”

His fingers curled into claws. “She’s angry. She’s so angry, and she’s scared and I need - I need…”

“You need to calm yourself or I will put you down again and leave you here until we have resolved this!”

He turned to see her pointing the ICER at him again.

Brock closed his eyes and sought the control he’d used for years as STRIKE commander. It was more difficult than it had ever been before, with his rage and Skye’s fueling each other. But he managed to push it below the surface; he knew May could still see the tension in his body, the fire in his eyes, but he managed to keep from lashing out at her again. “Fine. What’s the plan? We sure as hell need one to get her out of there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye stood for a long moment as Ward left her in the room with the man who called himself her father, shock temporarily breaking the cycle of rage she and Brock had built between them. She tilted her head slightly, studying the man in silence. She didn’t much resemble him; she wondered if she looked more like her mother but shrugged the thought away quickly. She’d probably never know.

She listened to him stutter his way through a few broken sentences before he made a comment about starting over. “Hi. I’m Cal. I’m your father. Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Thank… what the hell?” His comment made her snap, her fury and Brock’s resurfacing. “I was kidnapped at _gunpoint_ and that’s all you have to say?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he apologized, and he did actually seem to mean it. He also seemed rather unhinged, and she wondered if the reason fate had paired her with Brock was to protect her from crazy men who thought they knew what was best for her.

Cal was rambling about almond cookies and flowers now. Skye stared at him incredulously. He caught her expression, stopped himself, restarted again.

“My God. You are beautiful.” He smiled almost tenderly. “Well, I don’t know what you know about me.”

“You’re a monster,” she said painfully. “A murderer. A trail of death wherever you go.”

He winced, looked away. “Those are all true. But you need to understand. My family was taken from me. My baby girl, _stolen_. My soulmate, _butchered_.”

“What?” Skye felt her eyes open wide. “My mother - was your _soulmate_?”

“She was. And they _cut her to pieces_.”

Skye sat down heavily on the seat she’d just refused. _Well_. That - changed things a little bit. Because if something like that happened to Brock - she might just turn into a monster too. And she knew for certain that Brock would. He’d said once that if something happened to her, he only wanted to live long enough to get vengeance. It seemed obvious now to Skye that Cal had never been able to get his.

“Losing you, and your mother, was the worst day of my life,” Cal said quietly. “I’m sorry that this has all happened to you, angel eyes. So sorry. But it’s all right now. I’m here now.”

Skye gave him a despairing look. “It’s _not_ all right. You’re working with HYDRA! They’re planning to use a weapon of mass destruction…”

“I’m not working with HYDRA, and the Diviner isn’t what they think it is.” He reached to pat her hand, and she couldn’t help but flinch away.

“I’m sorry, Daisy. Of course, you don’t even know that’s your real name…”

“Yes I do.”

Cal blinked, derailed. “How?”

“I found my soulmate. Purely by chance.”

“Brock?”

“Yes, how… of course,” Skye realised. She was born with the mark on her back. Of course her father would have seen it.

“Oh,” Cal got up, paced again. “That complicates things. Well - perhaps not. The change might break it,” he muttered to himself, too quietly for Skye to hear. Turning back, he gave her a brilliant smile. “Well, I look forward to meeting him!”

“You really _don’t_ want to meet him right now. He’s really, really, _really_ angry,” Skye couldn’t resist saying.

“Yes. Well. I expect that’s true.” Cal gave her that unnervingly happy smile again. “Well, we can _both_ take care of you. Everything that’s about to happen is supposed to happen, after all.”

“If you want to take care of me, get me out of here,” Skye said sharply.

“Oh, maybe I haven’t been clear,” Cal said, studying her with an intent gleam shadowing that creepy smile. “You’re exactly where you need to be. This is your destiny, Daisy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the Bus landed in San Juan, Coulson was there to meet it along with FitzSimmons. He strode up the ramp when it opened and headed straight upstairs to meet the rest of his team. He paused a moment as he took in the pure fury radiating from Rumlow; though the man seemed somewhat in control at the moment, he stood at some distance from the others, arms crossed and expression stony.

“Right, here’s what we know. I’ve been informed of the Ward situation. But unless something has changed in the last twenty minutes, Skye is still alright, correct?”

“She’s still alive,” Brock snapped, his voice low and harsh. “All right’s another story. She’s angry, frightened and upset. Some more than others at any given moment.”

“We’ll get her back,” Coulson said confidently. He gestured to Simmons, who gave them the rundown on the impossibility of using tech in the tunnels and that in hazmat suits, the city shouldn’t detect them.

Coulson then turned to Sam. “I need you and Billy to return to HQ immediately. If things go radically south here, I need you to implement Theta Protocol.”

“Sir,” Sam began, but Coulson cut him off.

“That’s an order, Agent Koenig.” He might have said more, but his phone rang at that moment. He got the updated intel from Morse, then turned back to his team.

“Change of plan. HYDRA’s trying to shortcut into the chamber. May and I need to go help Morse and Hunter stop them.”

“If that’s where Ward took Skye,” Brock began, his voice intent.

“No.” Coulson shot him down before Brock could even make the suggestion. “You’re too angry right now; you can’t assess the situation objectively. I need you and Trip down in those tunnels; Fitz and Simmons can coordinate from above, but I don’t want them down there if it can be helped.”

Brock sighed, but he recognized the truth in Coulson’s words. If their positions were reversed, he’d have said the same damn thing. But he sure as fuck didn’t have to _like_ it. Rather than respond, he nodded brusquely at Coulson and went to find a hazmat suit that would fit.

Fitz was in the lab, fiddling with the explosives he and Trip were assembling. Brock paused to look over their shoulders, raising his eyebrow at the old-time gear.

“Your granddad’s bag of magic tricks again?” he said to Trip, amusement tempering his anger for a few minutes.

“You betcha.”

“This is how it works, see,” Fitz turned to show him, and his elbow grazed a beaker on the lab bench, tipping it over. Trip snatched up the bomb before the spilling liquid could get to it, but a few drops splashed onto Fitz’s shirt.

“Shit!” Fitz grabbed at the hem of his T-shirt. “That’s acid!”

“Get it off before it burns through,” Brock said sharply, and since Fitz was struggling, he just grabbed the neck of the shirt in both hands and ripped it away.

“Oh. Um.” Bashful at standing shirtless in front of the two muscular field agents, Fitz turned away hastily, grabbing for the lab coat hanging up by the bench.

“Huh,” Brock said in surprise, seeing the black lettering in the middle of Fitz’s back. “I didn’t know you had a soulmark!”

“I don’t,” Fitz didn’t turn around.

“Um, yes you do, buddy,” Trip replied laughingly. “That sure don’t look like a tattoo!”

“What?” Fitz turned around to stare at them both, bemused.

“You really don’t know,” Brock said. “It’s in a damn difficult spot to see, I s’pose… you got anything reflective in here?”

It took a couple of mirrors and a bit of maneuvering, but they finally managed to show Fitz the three letters written in the middle of his back, just below his shoulder blades.

“Sam,” he muttered wonderingly.

“She must have been born quite recently, surely you’d have known if it had been there for years,” Trip said.

“Or he,” Fitz muttered, blushing when Trip chuckled. “I just, you know, I don’t want to exclude possibilities, and statistically a ‘Sam’ could be either…”

“True enough, I suppose,” Brock replied. “Well, I guess that makes four of us on the team now. Skye told me once that she and Jemma bonded over having soulmarks and not knowing who their partners were.”

“I remember,” Fitz said thoughtfully, remembering. “It was right after Skye joined the team. Wasn’t long after that when you showed up, though.”

“Yes,” Brock said quietly, remembering himself the first time he’d laid eyes on Skye. She’d been standing at the bottom of the stairs leading down from Coulson’s office. He’d taken one look and wanted her, well before he had any inkling that she might be his soulmate. Hadn’t been able to stop looking.

He felt the soft, loving brush of Skye’s touch along the bond as the memory soothed him. Taking a slow, deep breath, he took the bomb from Trip’s hands.

“Right. Let’s go blow this place to hell.”

“Try to get Mack out first,” Fitz said quietly.

“If he’s still Mack, we’ll get him out,” Brock promised. “And then I’m going to go get Skye, and God have mercy anyone who gets in my way, because I sure won’t.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SURPRISE! Don’t think any of you saw that coming, did you? It hasn’t occurred to Brock to put two and two together yet either, he’s a little bit preoccupied right now.**
> 
>  


	29. How Do We Stop It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock tries desperately to get back to Skye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during season 2 episode 10, and use portions of dialogue from the episode._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/mission%20brief_zpsvyss41ze.jpg.html)

“Dr Whitehall wants you,” one of the HYDRA commandos said, opening the door. Skye looked up, and then at Cal.

“I’ll make plenty of time to answer all of your questions,” Cal promised. “But first, now that he’s served his purpose, I’m gonna kill the man who destroyed my life.” He started humming as he walked towards the door. “Best. Day. Ever.”

Skye shuddered.

She pressed her fingers to her lips and subdued her emotions quickly, though. She didn’t want to risk starting up another loop between herself and Brock. And that would happen all too easily if she let herself get angry again.

So she sat back. Took deep breaths. Reassured herself that Cal was wrong; even if something happened to change her in some major way, she would always have Brock. She loved him and he loved her, and there was nothing in this world that would permanently separate them as long as they both lived.

Much as she’d soothed him earlier, now his mind reached out to hers and reassured her. He was nearby. Help would be coming. She might be alone for the moment, but that wouldn’t last long.

When the guards came for her, Skye wasn’t terribly surprised. They didn’t bother tying her hands as they led her out of the room and down a series of hallways. They brought her to a group of people just standing around in an otherwise empty room. She listened quietly as Whitehall asked Ward about her, and Ward claimed she’d been insurance against the Bus shooting them down.

She deliberately widened her eyes when Whitehall explained that he’d countered Ward’s order to not shoot down the plane, but since she knew Brock was fine and he’d have found a way to let her know if anyone else was badly hurt she assumed they’d pulled some sort of stunt to let HYDRA think they were downed.

Then Whitehall turned to her with the Diviner in a case held by Agent 33.

“I’d like you to pick it up,” he told her, his expression curious.

“You first,” she taunted, her usual spark beginning to show. She only rolled her eyes when the guards pulled their guns on her. She looked over at Cal and saw him nod slowly. Whatever else he’d done to her, she didn’t believe he wanted her dead. So if he thought she would be safe, it was probably true.

In a decisive movement, she grabbed it out of the case. She watched, a little astonished, as it lit up in her hand but otherwise did nothing. She felt something a little like Brock’s touch in her mind, but it was definitely not her soulmate. Then she brushed the feeling aside and thrust the Diviner at one of the guards, hitting his neck with it where his armor didn’t quite cover his skin.

Cal attacked another one with a scalpel he’d hidden in his pocket, but the fight was over as quickly as it began when everyone else pointed guns at her. She knew she couldn’t hit so many without getting herself killed, nor did Cal have a gun. Ward did, but he couldn’t shoot them all before they shot her.

In the impasse, Whitehall looked at her with an expression of mingled interest and scolding. “I do hope,” he said, his tone sounding like an adult scolding a small child, “that you’re as special as your mother.”

Cal was breathing heavily. “If my daughter wasn’t here, I would tear you and your men to _pieces_.”

Whitehall only smirked condescendingly, looking at all the guns pointed at Skye and Cal, before turning to Ward and asking why he was really here.

It was Raina who responded, though. “Is it really that hard to see? It’s _love_. Agent Ward believes that if he helps Skye fulfil her destiny, she’ll see him for who he really is.”

“That,” Whitehall said, “and the fact that he knows the Faustus Method can erase her soulmark.”

Skye’s mouth dropped open. “ _What_?”

“I did promise him a reward if he brought me Raina. You’re a bonus.” Whitehall tilted his head, smiled at her in a way that made her skin crawl. “We shall have to discover your true gifts, my dear. And _if_ you survive the process of discovery, Agent Ward will indeed have his reward.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock was being lowered down into the tunnel when the spike of Skye’s rage hit him. And fear. For the first time, she was truly terrified, though he couldn’t tell what it was that was frightening her so. He clung onto the cable and concentrated on breathing.

_Just. Breathe._

Trip grabbed him as he hit the bottom, helped him unhitch the cable. “You all right, Rumlow?”

“No,” Brock gritted out. “No. Skye - she’s frightened, now. Something’s happened to scare her.”

“Coulson and May will get her, man. Come on. We gotta find Mack and blow this place to hell.”

“Yes,” Brock made his feet move. “Yes. I got this, Triplett,” when the other man looked at him doubtingly, his sceptical expression clear even through the faceplate of the hazmat suit. “Let’s do this.” His fingers were shaking, he realised distantly as he lifted the paper map Simmons had printed for them. Oddly enough, Skye’s emotions felt muted now that he was down in the tunnels, no longer as sharp and clear, and after a moment he was able to steady his hands and focus on the mission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How _could_ you!” Skye hissed at Ward once they were shoved into a storage room, secured to chairs and left alone. Cal had already run off on his quest for vengeance.

He didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. “He’s not good enough for you, Skye. He never was. You were blinded to his true nature. Rumlow’s a killer, he’ll do anything, hurt anyone who gets in his way.”

“You are very right about that,” she snapped. “There won’t be anything left of _you_ when he’s done.”

“He’s dead, Skye, Whitehall ordered the plane shot down despite your theatrics. And soon he’ll use his methods to make you forget you ever knew Rumlow, and we can finally be together.”

“You deluded fucking maniac,” she spat at him. “Brock’s not dead. Do you think I wouldn’t _know_? He’s close. And he’s _really_ fucking pissed off. There won’t be enough of you left to bury by the time he’s finished with you.”

Ward blinked at her a couple of times, then looked away. Skye sighed and slumped in her bonds. _Where the hell was Brock?_ He didn’t seem to be getting any closer. She could feel him intent on something, though, had to trust that he had a plan.

_Hurry up, my love_ , she thought at him silently. Whitehall didn’t seem to be wasting any time preparing to send Raina down into the temple with the Obelisk, or the Diviner as Cal called it. As it called itself when it whispered into her mind. If they didn’t stop Raina soon, who knew what horrors might be unleashed?

Skye was not terribly surprised when the sounds of gunfire spurred Ward into action. He managed to get himself free, take out their guard and then came over to release her. “I’m sorry your little family reunion didn’t go as planned,” he commented as he cut her free of her bonds. “Least I can do is get you out of here. Sit down while I check the door.”

Skye ignored his directive, following quickly. She saw a gun on the fallen soldier and scooped it up. While Ward’s back was to her, checking the hallway, she quickly aimed and fired four shots into his side, remembering Brock’s words. _Always save some bullets for other enemies_. As Ward slumped back against the wall, she walked past. “Never turn your back on the enemy. You taught me that,” she snapped at him as she strode past.

Brock was going to be amused when she got the chance to tell him about this specific moment. She couldn’t wait to see it. Now she just had to find him.

The first people she came across, though, were Cal and Phil. Phil was on the ground, Cal punching him in the head repeatedly. “Stop it!” she screamed at him. She aimed at Cal, her heart pounding in her throat, “Stop it or I’ll shoot! _Dad_!” Cal wasn’t her father; not in any of the ways that counted. But the word got his attention, and he did stop to look up at her.

Even so, she didn’t think she could shoot him. He’d lost so much, between losing his soulmate and his daughter. It was hard to hold a grudge when she knew Brock would go just as ballistic should she get killed. But she couldn’t let him kill Coulson, either. So she bluffed, and managed to get him to move away.

“After you change,” Cal told her, “no one will understand. They’ll be afraid. Change is terrifying. But I’m your father, and I love you. I will always love you, Daisy.”

“You’re wrong,” Skye insisted quietly. “You are _so_ wrong. My soulmate loves me. Nothing will ever change that. Not even if something happens to change me. I will _always_ have him.”

Cal hung his head, unable to argue with her claim; that _was_ how soulmates were meant to be. But there was still a chance… if she lost her soulmate, she’d still come to him. So for the moment, he walked away.

“Phil!” the moment he was out of sight, Skye put the gun down. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t kill him.”

“It’s all right,” Phil managed to groan.

“I’m gonna make it right,” she said, a wave of determination coming over her. “I’m gonna find the Obelisk.”

“No,” Phil choked out. But she refused to listen.

“I’m gonna stop the drill. I’m gonna make it right.” She lowered him gently, getting to her feet.

Ignoring his frantic cry of; “No, Skye, don’t go down there!” she began to run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“All done?” Jemma inquired as Trip gave Brock a hand out of the hole.

“Ten minutes to spare,” Brock checked his watch, once he’d dragged the hazmat suit off. Damn, but that thing was hot.

“I’d be more excited if Mack wasn’t still down there,” Fitz muttered.

Brock just shook his head. He’d seen no sign of the big mechanic and neither had Trip. His phone rang just at that moment, and he fished it out. _May_. He was hoping for good news. All he could feel right now from Skye was determination.

Being down in the city had seemed to scramble a lot of the signals across their bond; he hadn’t been able to make sense of what she was feeling when he was down there, but strangely enough it still felt oddly cloudy now he was out.

“Raina escaped into the tunnels with the Obelisk,” May told him once he flicked the phone onto speaker.

“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over her,” Trip almost chuckled. “The place is gonna blow in less than…”

“Skye and Coulson went in after her,” May interrupted.

Brock didn’t even hesitate. Just threw the phone at Trip, grabbed for the cable and leapt back into the hole.

“Damn,” Trip said, tossed the phone to Jemma and followed him, ignoring the panicked shrieks of Jemma and Fitz.

“We gotta disarm the bombs!” Trip shouted after Brock as he slid down the cable. “It’ll do us no good if you find Skye and we all die down here!”

“Fuck!” Brock cursed. He’d just hit bottom, stopped to wait for Trip. Shoved the paper map at him, stabbing his finger at it. “Skye’s that way, somewhere. I can _feel_ her. I’ll disarm these two on the way to her. Can you get these ones, and then look for Coulson?”

“Yeah. Be careful, man!” Trip yelled after him as he began to run.

Brock raced down the tunnel, headed for the first of the bombs. He jumped over debris, swiftly retracing earlier steps as they planted the damned bombs. Of course, Skye probably had no idea that they were planning to blow the city to bits or she wouldn’t have come down here. _Damn it all!_

He reached the first bomb in just a few minutes. He barely paused long enough to pull out the timer and toss it aside before taking off towards the next one. He felt Skye’s presence growing closer as he ran and he looked down some of the side passages, hoping for a clue as to how to get to her after the second bomb was disarmed.

He had a few minutes to spare when he retrieved the second timer, and he spared a moment to wish Trip luck - his were further away. Moving more carefully now, though still at a swift pace, he tried to follow the bond to Skye. He took a couple of wrong turns, cursing softly under his breath as he backtracked and found a better path.

From up ahead, he thought he saw a glimpse of light and heard the sound of rock grating against rock. He also felt Skye and knew she was close. Something was happening, and he had to get to her. He poured on the speed and slipped between two large, moving stones just in time before the gap closed. Skye and Raina both stood there, Skye with a gun and Raina staring at the Obelisk intently.

“Brock?” Skye whirled to stare at him, lowering her gun. “What are you doing here, you can’t be here!” She’d been so focussed on getting to Raina, stopping whatever awful thing was about to happen, that she hadn’t felt him coming closer. And now he was trapped in here with them.

“I came to get you,” Brock drew his own gun, put himself between Skye and Raina.

There was a cracking noise, drawing all of their gazes to the Obelisk, sitting on a pillar in the precise centre of the temple. It began to split open, revealing softly glowing blue crystals.

“How do we stop it?” Brock demanded grimly.

Raina only smiled.

“I don’t think we can,” Skye said softly.

The three of them stood staring at the blue crystals in silence for a long, fraught moment.

“What’s supposed to happen?” Brock asked, looking at Raina. He still had his gun trained on her. But she, at least, seemed to know something about this damned alien _thing_.

“Something beautiful,” Raina gushed, and he rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, there was an explosion of some kind of white mist out of the crystals. Skye started back a step with a small cry, but nothing seemed to happen. Brock looked back at Raina, who had a wide smile on her face.

And then the smile disappeared and she looked down at her hands, at the black stony substance beginning to form over them.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Brock gaped.

“Brock!” Skye screamed behind him, and he tried to whirl to look at her, only to find that his feet were stuck to the floor, the black stone inexorably growing over his legs.

“Skye!” he twisted at the waist to see the stuff already creeping over her face, even as she screamed his name again.

He didn’t have to think about it. Just pulled the trigger, firing at the blue crystals, even as the stone rose up his body. As it crept over his stomach, the unimaginable happened.

The bond between him and Skye _shattered_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DA DA DA DUNNNNNNN.**
> 
> **Brock has taken Trip’s place. And we all know what happened to Trip, don’t we?**
> 
> **Dearie me. This is NOT GOOD.**


	30. In The Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What They Become...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during and after season 2 episodes 10 and 11, and uses portions of dialogue from those episodes._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/hands%20reaching_zpsabq3zuer.jpeg.html)

In agony, Brock reached towards Skye’s frozen form as the stone crawled over his skin to freeze him in place as well. His arm locked up just a whisper away from touching her, and as the stuff covered his face his last sight was of her statue’s face - even her frozen expression of horror was better than not having her face be the last thing he ever saw.

Time seemed to stop, in the heavy blackness of cocooning stone. Utterly alone, unable to even feel one’s own body, there was just _nothing._

Long minutes passed, silent in the temple. And then the silence was broken by the sound of cracking stone. Slowly at first, tiny tremors passed through stone shells. Fingers broke free first, bits of shell crumbling away from arms and then faces.

Skye’s eyes filled with tears as her eyes fell on Brock’s statue, reaching out to her but not quite able to touch. “No,” she whispered. Her soul echoed with emptiness where their bond had once been and in an outpouring of grief her body arched and simply blew away the stone encasing her. “Noooooooo!” she screamed.

All around her, the temple began to shake. Then the city beyond. And just as she began to think that perhaps she should let it bury her alive, that she didn’t want to live the rest of her life alone, a light began to shine through cracks in Brock’s stone shell.

She darted over to take his hand, ignoring everything else - the shaking temple, Raina’s figure breaking free across the room - though she caught a quick glimpse of dark thorny points on pale skin and Raina’s look of horror. She felt his fingers wrap around hers as the stone began to fall away from flesh, faster along his hand and arm where she touched him, and she sobbed his name in relief.

Brock saw nothing but white light as the shell cracked and fell away from his body. He felt hands on his, heard Skye’s voice calling to him. And then everything seemed to explode. He couldn’t see her, couldn’t feel her in his mind, only her touch on his hand. But that was enough, for the moment.

Unable to see, the pain in his eyes intense, he simply closed them and pulled her into his arms. She stood there with him for a moment, trembling, then looked up. “The temple is falling down around us,” she whispered. And it was literally true; as the walls began to crumble from the force of the quaking, though pieces fell around them and even rolled up to their feet, none actually fell on them.

Brock held Skye tightly, shielding her with his body as best he could. His other senses strained, trying to make sense of what he could hear and feel but could not see. He whispered soothingly in her ear the whole time, nonsense that neither of them would remember later. But as her fear ebbed and she relaxed, the tremors also eased off. Brock noted it in the back of his mind, but his concern for Skye kept him from thinking about it in that moment.

So intensely was he listening, Brock heard the voices first. “Skye! Rumlow! Somebody answer me!”

“Is that Coulson?” Skye asked after a moment, as the cracks in the walls opened enough to let more sound through.

“I think so,” Brock agreed quietly. He tucked her head down against his chest and then lifted his chin to yell back. “Coulson! We’re in here!”

Skye’s gaze was drawn to the broken stone where she thought she heard the voices, and her expression turned to shock as it seemed to break apart right right in front of her eyes. She held tighter to Brock, hoping and praying that the falling stone wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Then the barrier was gone. Coulson, Trip and Mack picked themselves up off the floor and Skye once again sobbed in relief. Mack just stared at the pair, standing in the midst of the rubble with only a few scratches apparent. Trip grinned at Brock and gave him a thumbs-up - unaware that Brock couldn’t see it, though Skye did - their mission having been successful. Coulson was the first to pull them all back to reality.

“Come on! We’ve got to get out of here before another quake starts!”

“I can’t see them, sweetheart,” Brock murmured to her. “Something’s wrong with my eyes. All I can see is white light, it burns when I open them.”

“I’ll help you,” she promised. She tucked herself under his arm, holding her body against his and his arm over her shoulders. She slid them slowly forward, kicking away as much of the rubble as possible and whispering guidance to him.

When they reached Coulson, Phil rested a hand on each of their shoulders. “Everyone alright?”

“I don’t know,” Skye answered honestly. “Brock can’t see; says his eyes hurt.”

Coulson nodded brusquely. “Right.” He turned back to Mack and Trip. “You two help each other; we’re not far from the lift back into the theatre. “We’ll be right behind you.”

“You got it, boss,” Trip said, relief bringing his humor back to the fore. He helped Mack up with his good arm and the two men supported each other. Coulson moved to Brock’s other side, and together the three followed their teammates.

“Left here,” Coulson instructed, giving directions since only he and Skye had come down the way they were going out. “Right, now.” And then they were standing below the shaft, May silhouetted in the light above.

“Skye goes up first,” Brock said before anyone could even speak.

“I won’t leave you…”

“Get your ass up that shaft.” His tone brooked no argument.

“Go, Skye,” Phil said quietly. “Just go. We’ve got him.”

Mack and Trip both agreed, and finally she sighed and stepped onto the small platform.

“Coming up, May!” Phil shouted up the shaft, and the cable began to wind up swiftly.

“Thank God you’re all right,” May said to Skye as she pulled her out at the top. After dropping the cable back down, in an uncharacteristic display of affection, she pulled her into her arms, hugging her tightly.

Skye hugged her back, letting out a broken sob. “Please, please - will you look for me? Check if my mark is still there? Brock’s alive, but our bond is broken…”

“Broken!” May gasped, but she turned Skye around and untucked her shirt. “It’s still there,” she reassured, “still totally black.”

“Oh God,” Skye collapsed against her, sobbing with relief this time.

_What the hell happened down there?_  May wanted to ask, but realised now was not the time. Not with Coulson coming up the shaft, his bruised, bloodied face looking up at her.

“Rumlow might be blind,” he whispered in her ear as he stepped off the platform, and May winced.

“The others?” she asked. “Fitz and Simmons have been on the phone, panicking because Rumlow and Trip both went down unprotected.”

“Trip’s probably in the best shape of all of us, considering he was wounded before we even went down. We found Mack too. Whatever possessed him, it stopped once Skye and Brock went into that temple. There was no sign of Raina.”

“She was in there too,” Skye said, hearing that last comment. “The stone stuff got all over her as well.”

Coulson and May looked at each other silently, but there was no time to ask questions, not with the cable winding up again with Mack almost limp on the end of it. It took all three of them to get the huge mechanic onto the chamber floor. He was barely conscious, curled in on himself.

“Hunter and Morse?” Coulson asked as May sent the cable down again.

“Clearing the building, and then I sent them to get FitzSimmons. They shouldn’t be long.”

“Good, because we seriously need Simmons right now.” Coulson looked at Mack’s body, then at Skye on her knees beside the shaft, peering down into it. “If Rumlow is blind…” he kept his voice low, so Skye wouldn’t hear.

“It’s worse than that, Coulson. She said their bond is _broken_.”

Coulson’s eyes went wide as he took in that bit of information. “I thought there was nothing short of death that could break a soulbond!” He kept his voice low, still, but his eyes took on a new sorrow when he looked at Skye.

“Her mark is still there,” May answered softly.

“So maybe it’s not permanent? Hmm.” Coulson moved back to the shaft, resting a hand lightly on Skye’s shoulder. Skye turned and looked up at him with a small smile of gratitude. She rested her cheek against his hand for just a moment, then returned her attention below. As Brock was reeled up, the pair of them guided him to the edge and helped him detach from the harness. Skye helped Brock move out of the way while Coulson and May worked to bring Trip up.

Once everyone was safe, the team began to make their way out of the basement. It took Coulson, May and Trip working together to move Mack at all, so Skye was on her own guiding Brock.

Skye wasn’t feeling so well. She tried to ignore it, pushing it aside in her concern for Brock and the others. For a split second she was glad that she didn’t have anyone in her head to pick up on her condition, but she immediately regretted even the thought. Still she bit her lip and pressed on; they weren’t exactly moving quickly.

Brock felt Skye stumble beside him and tightened his arm around her supportively, as much for her as for him in that moment. “It’s fine,” she whispered. “I’m fine…” Then her steps faltered again, a rush of dizziness overtaking her. “Oh, maybe… maybe not.”

“Skye!” Brock’s concerned cry caused the others to look back; May turned around just in time to see Skye’s eyes roll upwards as she went limp. Only Brock’s arm around her kept her from falling.

“Shit!” Trip cursed. They quickly settled Mack on the floor and then everyone rushed to Skye. Trip and May took her from Brock and checked her vitals. Brock tried to hold in his own panic, silent as he listened to the others trying to figure out why she went down. They weren’t talking much, so there was nothing to hear and no bond to tell him how she was.

The pain behind his eyes intensified with his emotions. Almost without thinking he tried to open them, to see Skye if only for a moment. He only caught a brief glimpse of blurry figures before he felt something strange; he heard what sounded like an impact of something against a wall, listened to another cracking sound in response before he gave up trying to make sense of the white light that seemed to blot out everything else.

Coulson looked up as a wall shifted; there was a long crack running through it, probably from the earthquake. He didn’t think anything more of it, though; not after how much damage had been done below. “Damn. This place is unstable from the quakes. Trip, call FitzSimmons and get an ETA. We’re going to need their help to get everyone out of here, but I don’t think we can wait long.”

“Yes, sir,” Trip responded. He pulled out his phone. “About five minutes, sounds like,” he said when he hung up. “They just got everyone on the jet.”

“Alright. We’ll wait here unless things start to move again,” Coulson decided.

Without calling attention to it, Trip lightly guided Brock to sit beside Skye. Wordlessly he picked up the young woman’s limp hand and set it on her soulmate’s. When Brock squeezed his arm in thanks, he just squeezed back lightly and moved away to sit beside Mack while May continued to check over Skye.

“I can’t find anything obviously wrong with her,” she concluded finally. “We may need the medical equipment on the Bus to do a more thorough check.”

Brock didn’t know what to say. He just held Skye’s hand closely in his, stroking her fingers and trying to be patient until he heard running feet.

“We’re in here!” he heard May call, and then he heard Hunter swear.

“Christ, we leave you lot alone for ten minutes…”

“Mack!” it was a combination of relief and horror that he heard in Bobbi’s voice, and then, to his huge relief, he heard Simmons’ crisp tones.

“Can I get a triage report, Agent May?”

“Skye’s probably the most immediate concern. She just collapsed. Mack’s been intermittently drifting in and out of consciousness.” May clearly hesitated before saying, “other injuries not immediately serious, but the director will need stitches at some point and Agent Rumlow is currently unable to see.”

He could hear rustling as Jemma knelt down, he guessed on the other side of Skye.

“Unable to see!” she exclaimed.

“Worry about Skye now,” he said gruffly. “Like May said, we can deal with this later.”

“Alright,” she agreed after a moment’s hesitation. “Tell me about what happened.”

May quickly summarized Skye’s earlier injuries in Vancouver, but that those hadn’t been anything serious. Then between Coulson and Brock, they described Skye’s emotional swings and the fact that Skye fought with - and threatened to kill - her father before going down into the tunnels.

While listening, Simmons checked Skye’s vitals and looked for injuries that might not be immediately apparent. She paused and stared at Brock when he described the shock of their broken soulbond, his voice heavy with suppressed emotion, but then she returned her primary focus to Skye. “I’ll need her in med bay to be certain, but the symptoms point to exhaustion and stress rather than injury. The emotional highs and lows on top of the trauma of a broken bond, not to mention whatever else happened down there...”

“We can do a full debrief on the way back to the Playground,” Coulson said, delaying any further questions. “For now, if it’s safe to move her and Mack we should probably get going.”

Simmons nodded and moved to check on Mack. With a shake of her head, she shrugged. “I don’t know what happened to Mack without better equipment. I don’t see anything that would suggest that it’s dangerous to move him, though.”

May and Coulson nodded. “So let’s get everyone back to the Bus and give everyone a better check when we get there.”

"Rumlow," it was Hunter's voice, "will you let me carry Skye? Bob and Trip can manage Mack, and Fitz here can guide you if you'll let him."

"Okay," Brock agreed after a moment. " But - please don't get far away. I need - I need -" he swallowed the tears welling in his throat, threatening to choke him. "I need to know she's close."

"It's not far to the quinjet," Hunter said, and for once there was no hint of teasing in his voice. "Fitz, you guide Brock, and you shout out if I get more than three steps ahead, okay?"

"I will," Fitz promised, and Brock felt the engineer's hand on his arm. "Come on, Rumlow, can you get up?"

"I'm picking her up now," Hunter's voice said, closer, and Brock felt Skye's body begin to shift. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand, not wanting to pull on her arm as Hunter lifted her. The loss of even that small physical contact made everything worse, the yawning empty hole in his mind where their bond should be more painful even than the burning agony in his eyes when he tried to open them. He found himself leaning more heavily on Fitz than he should, but the younger man bore up without complaint.

It was indeed not far to the quinjet, and Fitz guided Brock to a seat and strapped him in, talking quietly all the while to let him know what was happening.

"Skye's on the stretcher now. May's locking the wheels into place. Here, give me your left hand."

He could just touch the edge of the stretcher. And then, to his surprise, he felt something soft on his fingers.

"There," Fitz said. "You can't reach Skye, but that's a lock of her hair."

"Thank you," Brock said genuinely, stroking the fine strands between his fingertips.

"You're welcome," Fitz said. "You once said to me, when I was laid up, you asked me if there was anything you could do for me - well, this is my chance to return the favour."

Brock felt Fitz settle into the seat beside him. "Everyone's on board. May's going to the cockpit. We'll be lifting off in a moment."

Fitz kept up a running commentary all the way back to the Bus. Helped Brock to a seat in the lounge.

"Where are they taking Skye?" Brock asked. "May ejected the pods, there's no medical bay..."

"The Cage, her and Mack both. Jemma's gathering equipment to make it as good a medical centre as she can," it was Coulson's voice. "Go give her a hand, please, Fitz?"

"Yes, sir," and with a last pat to Brock's wrist, Fitz was gone.

"Can you see anything?" Coulson asked point blank.

"Not really. It's very blurry when I open my eyes, there's this white light that burns like hell. I'd rather keep them closed if it's all the same to you."

"No problem. We'll leave it to Simmons to look at. In the meantime - do you feel up to telling me what the bloody hell happened in that temple?"

Brock shrugged. “When I got there, Skye and Raina were already in there. The Obelisk was on a pedestal lit from above somehow.” His voice was low but his body tense, showing subtle signs of distress. Not that Phil could blame him.

“I just got inside before the temple closed up. A few minutes later, the Obelisk opened up. There were blue crystals inside, a cluster of ‘em. Then this mist rolls out of the crystals, fast enough to knock Skye back a bit. Next thing I know, she’s rooted to the ground and her skin is being covered over in dark stone - or something that looked like it, anyway. I tried to go to her, but it was getting to me too. So I shot the crystals, shattering them. But it didn’t stop, and I couldn’t get to Skye. As she was covered over completely, I felt our bond shatter.” Brock paused, took a deep breath. The aching void inside him was hard to disguise, though he tried hard.

“Skye mentioned it to May,” Coulson said quietly. “May checked for her, and her soulmark is still there and looks the same. If something happened down there that broke it, it’s possible that you might be able to try to bond again.”

Brock let out a breath in a quick sigh, his tension easing just slightly. “So there’s still hope. Thank you.” He tightened his fingers on his thigh, pushing himself to finish the report. “Being inside the stone felt like an eternity of nothing. I couldn’t see or hear or feel my own body. Then the shell started to crack. I could feel Skye’s hand on mine, and the stone just started to break and fall away. I could also feel the ground shaking, hear the cracking and grating of stone. So I grabbed Skye, pulled her in close. Figured I could take more of a beating than she can, so I shielded her.”

“And the quakes broke the temple down enough to let you out. Do you feel any different, other than your eyes?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. But right now it’s hard to tell.”

Coulson picked up Rumlow’s hand and shook it. “Thank you. I appreciate the report. And what you did to protect Skye.”

“I’d do anything to protect Skye.” And both men knew just how true that really was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jemma emerged from the cage, she was called to Coulson’s office.

“Simmons,” he greeted her when she arrived. “Please, sit.”

He proceeded to repeat Rumlow’s description of what happened in the Kree temple. She listened quietly, wide-eyed. “Sir, we’ll have to quarantine them when we return to the Playground,” she said in an intense tone. “There’s no way of knowing what they were exposed to in that mist. And that they were released from the stone rather than being solidified is unheard of! I simply have no idea what might have happened.”

“Alright, Simmons. We’ll quarantine them. Can they be kept together?”

“I’m not sure. It would be better to keep them separate in case one of them picked up something the other didn’t.”

“If that’s true, then we could all have been exposed by now.”

“That, at least, we can check quickly when we get back,” Simmons said with a shake of her head. “A quick scan, a blood test for unknown pathogens and we’ll be set. But we should minimize exposure until we get back.”

“Alright. I’ll give the orders. Fortunately, it shouldn’t be too long until we get back.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Incidentally, we do have precedent for this. In comic canon, Crossbones (bad Crossbones, that is) gets exposed to the Terrigen Mists and gains a power. Which means that Brock was born Inhuman just like Skye.**
> 
> **As for what exactly he becomes in this story, you’ll just have to wait and see…**
> 
> **Oh. And #TripLives. Did you expect anything else?**


	31. Quarantine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Skye are sent into quarantine - separately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter take place before and during Season 2 episode 11 and may use portions of dialogue from it._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/side%20view_zpskdbryfry.jpg.html)

When they returned to the Playground, Jemma sent orders to the medical staff to check everyone on the team over quickly, except for Mack, Skye and Brock. For those three, she wanted everyone suited up and she’d transfer them to quarantine before they did any tests.

Brock objected vociferously to being separated from Skye, but there really wasn’t anything he could do to protest it, since he couldn’t see. Fitz and Jemma both pleaded with him, Jemma telling him how worried she was about his eyes - Mack’s eyes, after all, had been that hideous black when he was possessed by the city - and Fitz telling him quietly that Skye would need peace and quiet to rest. He promised to rig up an open com line between their quarantine cells immediately so they could talk to each other, at least. Once Skye woke up, anyway.

“Skye,” Jemma’s voice was saying, “Skye, wake up.”

She blinked her eyes open blearily, startled when she saw a figure in a white biohazard suit bending over her. “Jemma?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Jemma leaned right in so Skye could see her through the faceplate. “We’re back at base,” she answered the unspoken question. “You’re in quarantine, because of the white mist you were exposed to in the underground city.”

“Brock?” Skye asked, pushing herself up to a sitting position.

“He’s fine. But also in isolation. Something happened to his eyes. He hasn’t let me examine them yet, insisted that you took priority,” Jemma smiled. “I’m going back to San Juan tonight, with Trip and a team, we’re going to examine the tunnels. See what’s down there. The medical staff here will take care of you until we can let you out of quarantine.”

Skye nodded. “I feel fine. Please will you go check on Brock?” She wasn’t fine. Not even close to it, not with that hollow feeling in the back of her mind where Brock’s love should be. But physically, she felt as though there was nothing wrong with her.

“All right,” Jemma’s tone was gentle. “Here.” She put a phone down on the bed. “Fitz is working on building an open com link for the two of you, but it’s not done yet. You can call him, at least.”

Skye was already holding the phone to her ear as Jemma let herself out of the quarantine cell.

Brock fumbled for the phone Fitz had given him a little while ago as it started to ring. Hearing Skye’s voice on the other end of the line made a little of the tension leak out of his body.

“Baby,” he slumped against the end of the bed. “You’re all right?”

“Physically I’ve never felt better,” she said quietly, “but no, I’m not going to be all right. Not while I don’t have you.”

He knew what she meant. “Our marks are still there, my love. We can try again.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “As soon as they let us be together. This quarantine thing…”

“Is necessary for your safety and mine.” Sounds outside his quarantine cell made him lift his head. “Someone’s here.”

“It’s Jemma, she’s going to look at your eyes. And no more nonsense about looking after everyone else first. Everyone else is fine and you’re _not_.”

Brock sighed, but couldn’t help smiling. He could just picture her, standing in front of him and insisting that he let Jemma look after him. Goodness knows it had happened before. And she was so beautiful when she got all fierce and protective. “Alright, love, alright. I’ll let her check my eyes and whatever else she needs to do.”

Skye sighed. “Thank you. I’ll let you go so she can do your check-up. But I’m sure she’ll dial me back for you when she’s done.”

“Fitz said the open comms should be ready soon,” Brock informed her. “He’s being really helpful with… all of this.”

“I’m glad,” she said softly. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“You got it, sweetheart.” He heard the door open. “Bye for now,” he said, then set the phone down knowing Skye would disconnect.

“How are you feeling?” Jemma asked as she approached, resting her hand on his arm so he’d know where she was.

“About the same,” he answered. “A little better now that Skye’s awake and okay.”

“Skye looks fine,” Jemma assured him. “There are people working on her blood samples even now. I need to get one more from you, and then we’ll check your eyes, okay?”

“Where do you need me?” he asked.

“You’re fine where you are. Just let me get a few things, okay?”

“Sure.” Staying put was easier; since he didn’t know what was where in the quarantine unit, he’d mostly stayed where he’d been settled upon arrival. “Jemma, is there much breakable in here?”

“Well, there’s monitors and equipment around, yes. But you’ve got the bed you’re sitting on and some clear space around it, between you and the wall of the unit,” she described it for him. “Here, give me your hand.” When he obeyed, she tugged him gently to his feet and walked him around the clear space, between the bed and a chair and the drawer where things could be passed in to him without someone coming inside. “There. Better?”

“For the moment,” he agreed as he sat back on the bed. “So, blood drawn and then my eyes?”

“Yes. And then you can talk to Skye a little more if you’d like, but I really want you to try to rest. We’ve all been through a lot, and it’s getting late.” She swabbed his arm and prepped it for the blood draw as she spoke.

“I’ll ask Skye to watch the time,” he promised.

“All right, just that little pinch now,” Jemma said as she worked. “It’s going good, so it’ll just be a minute or two.” Fitz had told her that a running commentary seemed to help Rumlow relax, so she decided to try it as well. “There, all done. Can you hold the cotton pad for a moment while I get a bandage?” she asked. Touching his own arm wasn’t hard, so he did as she asked without problems. “Good, thank you. Alright, you can let go now.” She pressed the open bandage over the draw site and secured it to his skin. “There. I’ll just set these aside and we’ll check your eyes. Coulson said you’d only seen bright light and otherwise everything is blurred?”

“Opening my eyes makes the pain more intense, so I haven’t really experimented much,” he admitted.

“I understand. So, just lie back,” she assisted him as he cooperated. “Look straight ahead and we’ll see what I can determine.”

“You’re the specialist,” Brock answered agreeably, though his voice and body both held tension.

“I’m afraid I can’t turn the lights down, but I can try to shield you as best I can while I look, okay?”

“Yeah, I get it. Can’t figure anything else if you can’t see. I’ll manage, Jemma.”

“I know. I don’t want to hurt you, but sometimes it can’t be helped.” She patted his arm gently. “All right, please open your eyes for me.”

Brock opened his eyes and the white light seared his vision again. He could very vaguely make out Simmons’ figure beside him, but all his instincts screamed at him to close his eyes again right away.

Jemma jumped back when a stream of light emitted from Brock’s eyes. She stifled a shriek when it caused the light above to explode in a shower of sparks. Her scream, smothered though it was, caused Brock to give in to the impulse and close his eyes again.

“Jemma! Jemma, are you all right?” he asked frantically.

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm herself was only marginally successful and her voice shook when she spoke. “Your eyes… they’re _emitting_ that white light you mentioned. And… it seems to cause things to explode. I just… I don’t know if there’s anything we _can_ do about it…” She moved closer and rested her hand on his arm again for a minute. “I’m… I’m going to have to speak with Director Coulson about this.”

“I’m sorry, Simmons,” Brock said, hiding his pain and confusion behind his concern for her. “I’ll keep my eyes closed. I promise.”

“I know you will,” she said gently. “I’m sorry, too. I just… this is outside my experience.”

There was more than a little terror in her voice.

“Get me something to put over my eyes, would you please?” Brock asked, trying to find some way to reassure her. “If there’s a blindfold or something over them, I’m less likely to open them by accident, when I first wake up or something.”

“Good thought. Yes. Yes, that’s a good thought, I’ll go find something…” She was still muttering to herself as he heard the airlock-style door hiss open. Within a couple of minutes she was back.

“Bandage,” she said, “it’s nice and soft. I’ll put cotton pads over your eyes and then wind it around.”

He sat still and patient while she wrapped his eyes, and thanked her afterwards. “Would you call Skye back for me before you go, please?” he asked, holding the phone out.

“Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll do that right away,” Jemma babbled, taking the phone for a moment before handing it back. “There - there, it’s ringing.”

She still sounded very freaked out, and Brock had to wonder exactly what she’d seen in those few seconds he’d had his eyes open.

Skye had already answered the phone by the time Brock lifted it back to his ear, was saying his name anxiously.

“I’m here, I’m fine,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. Feeling suddenly a little bit relieved that Skye wouldn’t be able to feel just how strongly he was lying to her.

“You don’t sound fine,” of course, she picked up on the stress in his voice anyway. “Brock, what is it? Your eyes - are you… _blind_?” It was a horrified, hushed whisper of the last word.

Jemma had left the room. Brock rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead above the edge of the bandage. “It might be worse than that.”

“What’s _worse_ than _blind_?” Skye almost shrieked.

He thought bleakly about the way SHIELD had always treated Gifteds and enhanced humans. Putting them on the Asset Register, locking them in the Fridge or other prisons, disabling their abilities. About the only ones he could think of that they hadn’t tried to contain were The Hulk - who probably _couldn’t_ be contained - Cap, and, come to think of it, Mike Peterson. _Huh_. Maybe Coulson really did have a different approach than Fury. Maybe, if Brock could prove that he could still be useful… he tried to keep his breathing steady, his voice calm, not let Skye know of his rising terror that he would be taken away from her.

“The white light is _inside_ my eyes,” he finally said. “I think I just blew up a light or something. Simmons freaked out.”

Skye was quiet for a moment. “Well, that’s different,” she said, her tone mildly flippant. “Guess maybe Cal - my father - was right.”

“Right about what?” Brock was a little surprised by her blasé attitude, but only a little. Irreverent in the face of disaster, that was his Skye.

“He said it would _change_ me. That change was terrible and frightening and no one would understand or accept me once I went through it,” she said quietly.

“And you think this is mine?”

“Well, it didn’t kill you like it has so many others. Though that raises another big ol’ question mark,” she said. “So you’ve been changed and your eyes are messed up. I don’t feel any different, but it may only be a matter of time.” She sighed, her voice quiet. “We’ll get through this together, though. Right?”

“Of course,” he answered immediately. “I promised you once that I’d change your opinion of good things, show you that they can last. I don’t intend to break that promise.” He heard her sigh of relief through the phone.

“I know. I even told Cal that; I’d always have you, whatever else happened.”

“You will. And as soon as we get out of these quarantine cells…”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she perked up. “You’ll use your hands to remind yourself how I look?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“You damn well better believe it,” he promised, chuckling. Thank goodness for his Skye. She always managed to make him smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock was laying back utterly bored when he heard the airlock door hiss open again. “Who’s there?” he asked.

“Coulson.”

Pushing himself to sit up, Brock nodded. “Sir. Has Simmons spoken to you?”

“Yes she has. I’d like to talk to you privately - Fitz has your open com link ready to go but I told him not to open it just yet.”

Brock smiled grimly. Of course, Coulson didn’t want Skye to hear the conversation that was about to take place.

“You made a mess of the light,” Coulson said after a moment. “Looks like the glass and metal has actually fused together, like it melted under intense heat. All you did was open your eyes?”

“Yes, sir.”

Coulson was silent for a moment, and Brock heard him shuffling about, guessed he was sitting down in the chair.

“The way I see it, you have two options,” Phil said finally. “If - and it’s a big _if_ \- we can figure out what happened down there, we might be able to find some way to reverse it. If not, you have to figure out how to manage it.”

“And how the hell do I do that without destroying everything in the vicinity I look at, sir?” Brock said sarcastically. “Option three is, of course, that you make sure I can’t use it. Secure my eyelids shut…”

“That’s not an option,” Phil said sharply. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Rumlow, you’re not a criminal. We only disable powers of people who are using them for the wrong reasons, you know that!”

Brock thought about it. “I believe that _you_ believe that, sir,” was all he said.

“Let’s not go into whatever HYDRA may have done, because we don’t know what was HYDRA or SHIELD in whatever orders you’ve carried out before,” Phil said after a quiet moment. “As for you learning to control it, well, you won’t destroy the sky.”

“Better make sure there’s no planes flying overhead…”

“Stop being such a nervous nancy, Rumlow,” Phil said sharply, and despite himself, Brock laughed. “We can make this work. We _will_ make this work. We won against HYDRA in San Juan, stopped them using the Diviner as a weapon, and you destroyed it. Whitehall’s dead, and with Bakshi in our custody, they’re scrambling. I’m developing a plan to strike while the iron’s hot…”

“Need any help with that planning, sir?” Brock had to ask. “I mean, I know I can’t see, but you could talk me through it.” He mouth curved in a grin. “I’m going stir-crazy lying here with nothing to do, and I’ve probably planned more tactical assaults than you, Hunter, May and Morse put together. No offense.”

“None taken,” Phil said thoughtfully. “All right. I had this idea, you see, about how to use Bakshi…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye’s bed quivered for just a moment as she woke up from a nightmare about being in the temple and feeling her soulbond break. She sighed and rolled over onto her back, then turned her head to see Coulson sitting outside her quarantine area.

“I haven’t been able to sleep either,” he said in a low voice.

“I keep thinking Trip or someone is gonna come make fun of me for being in quarantine. Call me a hamster or a goldfish or something. But they don’t. Everyone’s afraid.” She took a deep breath. “I keep feeling it in my sleep. The bond breaking. Being so completely alone for the first time in months. Being completely cut off.” Her voice began to shake with suppressed tears. “I keep hoping that this time when I wake up, it will all have just been a nightmare. But it’s not.” She looked up at Phil, her eyes anguished. “I feel so empty. So alone. And I can only imagine how Brock must feel, with all of this and not being able to see anything on top of the rest.” She looked away, her voice dropping low. “He shouldn’t have been in there.”

“You both went in for a good reason,” Phil assured her gently. “To prevent HYDRA from starting a cataclysm.”

“He was trying to save _me._ ”

“He may have saved all of us,” Phil replied. “The Obelisk triggered a massive earthquake. Imagine how much worse it could have been if he hadn’t destroyed it. Once medical clears you, we’ll get you out of there. You’ll just be stuck underground, like the rest of us. And once Rumlow is released, we’ll give you two some time to yourselves. See if your bond can be re-established.”

“How’s everyone else doing?” Skye asked hesitantly.

Phil shrugged lightly. “Trying to keep busy. Trying to figure out what happened. It could have been so much worse, and we all know that. You and Rumlow may have been hurt or changed somehow, but at least no one died.” His voice and eyes were sympathetic. “When you sign up for this life you come to accept that change and loss will be part of it. But it’s always hard to see something like this happen to one of your own. You never expect to see it happen. And yet it happens too much. Over time, it becomes harder to let people in. Sometimes it just makes you want to pack up and run.”

“Is that what you want to do? Run?” she asked quietly.

“Sometimes. You?”

“I couldn’t even if I tried.” She got up from her bed, started to pace slowly around the quarantine unit. “How long did it take for Mack to get out of quarantine?”

“He cleared pretty quickly,” Coulson said, his tone reassuring. “Whatever took over his system is gone. But he’s pretty shaken up.”

“And Simmons? Is she back?”

“Not yet. She has Trip and a team with her. Cleaning up, but it’s slow going without electricity. She’ll assess the structural integrity of the place and, if possible, blow one of the vertical shafts under the ocean floor. Flood the city with water.”

“And drown it for good,” Skye finished, her voice heavy but approving.

“Hopefully the bedrock wasn’t too badly damaged by the quake. The temple collapsed in on itself.” Coulson looked intently at her through the glass. “It’s a miracle you and Rumlow are alive.”

Skye nodded, accepting that fact. She was starting to wonder, though, just how much of it was luck. “Did you find Raina’s body yet?”

“There’s a lot of rubble to dig through. But not yet. Whatever gas or mist came out of the Obelisk, it hit all three of you. That’s why we’re being extra cautious. It’s hard to make sense of all this.”

“No,” Skye said quietly. “No, it isn’t. We lost. We _failed_.”

“Skye, don’t say that,” Coulson said, shaking his head.

“It wasn’t because of HYDRA. It was because of _me._ ”

“No, Skye!”

“If I didn’t go down there,” Skye’s voice rose until she was nearly yelling, “you could’ve blown the place! In my stupid want to make things _right_ , I gave them what they wanted!”

“That was one battle, Skye. This is a _war._ ”

“And Ward and my father...“ she paced back and forth, her face a sneer when she mentioned Cal, “the rotten core at the center of _everything!”_

“We did _not_ fail,” Coulson’s hand hit the glass, startling Skye out of her rant. “We prevented a disaster and Whitehall is dead. We cut off the head! And while HYDRA scrambles for a new one, I will _crush_ them. I’m gonna make somebody pay. Whoever the hell it is.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Although Trip survives in this AU, it’s our belief that Phil would still be enraged because of what happened to Brock and Skye, and that he’d go ahead with his pre-emptive strike against HYDRA.**
> 
> **Now, something selfish (oz here). I KNOW how invested a lot of you are in this story. And I want you to SHOW US. Readers tell me how much they love the manips I make of Brock and Skye together… well, that’s about my only skill with art. But I am 100% sure that some of you out there can draw and gif and make fanvids, and I’d love to see some of that art for this ship. You can link to it on Ao3 as a Work Inspired By, tag it on Tumblr, leave a link in the comments… I am GREEDY for more RumSkye and I WANT IT. Pretty please ;)**
> 
> **I don’t care if it’s two stick figures with cartoon speech bubbles. That would be the limit of my artistic skills with a pencil, believe me. There’s no closing date, no time limit. I just want to see your art! And if anyone’s good with fanvids, I would ESPECIALLY love to see a YouTube fanvid. I’m sure Winter and I can come up with some suggested theme tracks if you’re unsure!**
> 
>  


	32. You Caused It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz makes the choice to conceal Skye's changed blood results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter take place during season 2 episode 11 and may use portions of dialogue from that episode._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/Rumskye%2012_zpstjd8qagv.jpg.html)

The open com link was a comfort to both Brock and Skye over the next few days. As were their friends. Trip had gone back to San Juan with Jemma, but the other members of the team came by regularly to talk to them both. Bobbi delivered snacks and drinks, reading material for Skye which she read aloud to Brock. Hunter surprised Brock by handing over an old-style iPod and headphones.

“You can’t select the tunes, but you can put it on shuffle and fast-forward through the ones you don’t like,” he muttered a bit bashfully. “There’s probably too much Britpop on there for your taste…”

“I actually like Blur and Oasis and the Arctic Monkeys, thanks,” Brock said a bit wryly. “Benefit of having a soulmate twenty years younger than me, I don’t have totally old-man taste in music.”

That made Hunter laugh. “Trust me, Rumlow, I don’t think any of us see you as an old man!”

“Certainly not me,” Skye said tartly across the com link.

“Please don’t start talking about how he demonstrates it to you,” Hunter said hurriedly. “I really don’t want to be an awkward third party to your phone sex.”

“Nah, we save that for later when people are less likely to walk in,” Skye quipped lightly, then laughed at the awkward silence that was Hunter’s response. “Sorry, I’ll hush now so you guys can talk.”

“I don’t think we’ve anything to talk about that you can’t hear,” Brock said, “do we, Hunter?”

“Not since your lack of vision makes my usual quarantine survival kit of a pile of porn mags totally redundant,” Hunter joked.

“You are a disgrace, Lance Hunter,” Skye told him, laughing.

“Proud of it too, darlin’,” Hunter got up, awkward in his biohazard suit - and Brock genuinely appreciated that he’d made the effort to put it on and come in - and headed for the airlock. “I gotta go, guys. Coulson’s nearly ready to move on this mission. I need to go practice my Yank accent again.”

“Tell me you’re not getting that cowboy hat out again?” Brock asked jokingly.

“Nah. It’s white, and I’m playing a bad guy.”

“Be careful,” Brock told him. He’d thrashed out the plan with Coulson, and it all hinged on Bakshi believing Hunter had been sent by HYDRA to break him out.

“I will.” Hunter hesitated for a moment. “Not a lot of people know this, but there was always one thing we included in every mission outline when it was Izzy, me and Idaho. ‘Get in, do the job, get out. And don’t die out there. That last bit, that was the most important. Kept us together longer than most.”

Brock smiled. “I’m glad you told me. So go work on your accent. And if I don’t see you before the mission, don’t die out there.”

Hunter smiled, and though Brock couldn’t see it he could hear it in the other man’s voice. “Thanks, mate. Take care.”

Skye waited until she heard the airlock-door close and footsteps moving away. “That’s kind of sweet. But don’t you dare tell him I said that.”

“Every team has their quirks, sweetheart,” Brock said, his tone amused. But he was genuinely touched by Hunter’s acceptance of him and knew this was his way of reaching out to include him regardless of current circumstances.

“Even your old STRIKE?” Her tone was skeptical.

“Even them. But they were a team by orders. Hartley, Hunter and Idaho were a team by choice. Changes things a bit.”

“I suppose so.” Her tone grew thoughtful. Then she sighed. “Well. Books or music?” she asked, needing something to alleviate the boredom of quarantine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jemma returned to the Playground while most of the team were away on the mission with Bakshi. She was clearly terrified and upset after being in the city and what happened with Raina, and Skye tried to help talk her through it. Brock kept quiet on his end of the open comm link, knowing that Jemma was more likely to open up to just Skye than to the two of them. Unfortunately, Jemma wasn’t willing to be calmed. She pointed out the deaths at Raina’s hands, what the woman had become, and Brock’s blindness.

“...just to be safe,” Jemma kept muttering to herself as she left with Skye’s blood samples.

Skye sat heavily on the bed and took a few deep breaths. When she was entirely alone she looked up at the ceiling. “This isn’t going to go well, is it?” she asked Brock quietly.

“It certainly doesn’t seem that way, sweetheart.”

“I’m guessing your samples will come out like Raina’s. And probably mine as well.”

Brock sighed quietly. “I don’t doubt they will. But Coulson and May should be back soon. They’ll keep things under control. I already spoke to Coulson, and he has no intention of containing me long term unless I start hurting people.”

“I think that might be the best news I’ve heard all day,” Skye said, smiling a little.

“Listen to your music for a bit, love,” he suggested gently. “Let it help you relax. Close your eyes and pretend you’re back in your little bunk on the Bus.”

“Okay, I will. You’ll be alright for a bit?”

“I’ll put on Hunter’s iPod for a while. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to you in a while.”

Skye had just started to relax when Fitz appeared outside her unit with her biometer watch. She started to breathe heavily, trying not to cry, when Fitz told her that her heartrate recorded was inhuman.

“I thought I put this thing together wrong. Been struggling to, um, um…” Fitz paused, snapping his fingers in attempt to put the words together, clapping sharply as if it could shake things loose. “There’s something wrong with the data in my head.”

“What are you saying?” Skye asked tremulously, staring at Fitz with wide eyes.

Fitz began to speak very fast, the words almost tumbling out. “So, I was thinking how the heart monitor seemed to shatter from the inside out, but it was still on your wrist when we found you... that doesn't make sense.” He looked at her, his voice breaking. “And how we found you... you and Brock, basically unharmed in the collapse, with destruction all around you!”

Fitz put his head in his hands, breathing heavily. Skye looked around the quarantine unit in alarm as everything began to rattle and shake. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make it stop.

“I thought I was losing my mind all over again... that there was something wrong. So it took a while to dawn on me ... or maybe I was just afraid to think it... that... you survived the destruction because... _you_ caused it.”

“No.” Skye moved to the wall of the quarantine unit, put her hands on it because she couldn’t reach out to Fitz. “No, no, no.”

Fitz looked up at her, the stark fear in her eyes echoing his own. “Raina wasn't the only one changed in there. Brock’s eyes are different, he’s not _just_ blind. And I'm pretty sure the DNA results we're running right now are gonna confirm it.”

“No. No!” Head in her hands, she kept trying to deny it. She backed away as he moved closer. She didn’t want him to be right, even though part of her knew he was.

“There's nothing wrong with the data in my head, Skye. There's something wrong with you, too!”

“No!” she screamed, holding her head in her hands even as the lamp beside her exploded with a shower of sparks and glass. Fitz just stared, breathing as heavily as she was. Then he grabbed her watch and ran.

“Skye!” Brock called out, the yelling having broken through his music in the last few moments. He’d taken his headphones off just in time to hear her scream amidst the sound of shattering glass. “Skye, baby, talk to me!” he called out to her, his voice bordering on frantic.

“I’m… I’m here,” she said after a moment of tense silence. “I’m here.”

“What happened? Talk to me, love.”

“Fitz. Fitz _knows_. He was just here. He said… he said _I_ caused the earthquake in the city. That _I_ destroyed the temple.” Skye’s voice was breathy, full of tears and terror.

“Shh, baby. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” Skye wrapped her arms around herself, imagining that he was holding her instead. She sniffled a few times, but with his soothing voice all around her she slowly managed to calm down.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Thank you,” she said quietly after a little while.

Skye was trying to clean up the glass from the lamp when May arrived. Brock was still on the other end of the comm, basically talking about nothing to keep her calm. When she hissed the first time, he asked, “Are you alright?”

“Just the glass,” she murmured, pressing a towel to her hand. Then she looked up to catch movement in the doorway and added, “May’s here.” Brock hummed an acknowledgement and fell silent.

May moved up close to the glass and Skye stepped forward to meet her. “Hey,” May said.

“Hey,” Skye replied.

“Feeling like you've been in that glass box your whole life?” Skye didn’t answer and May’s expression turned concerned. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I-I just... I feel isolated and exposed at the same time. Being a caged animal is no fun.”

“It's for your own good ... temporary.”

“I know. I know.” Skye tried to smile and took a deep breath. Then she chuckled a little. “Maybe I just need a hug. I miss having Brock in the back of my head.” She took a deep breath and softly admitted, “I hate seeing everyone fighting.”

“They're just having a hard time,” May’s tone tried for reassuring, but it didn’t really help.

“Yeah, but I've never seen Coulson like that before. He seemed so... cutthroat.” Skye turned worried eyes on May.

“Yeah, I've rarely seen him like this myself,” she answered gently. “He’s struggling right now, trying to decide the right thing to do, what needs to be done and how to do that within the principles that he wants SHIELD to be founded on. He sees the embodiment of those principles in people like you and Trip - compassion, loyalty, heart. And he hates seeing you hurt and trapped, doesn’t want you to lose those things that are your strength, and SHIELD’s. Coulson has been reminded that HYDRA doesn’t have that, and _that_ is their weakness.”

Skye nodded slowly, knowing that May was right. She sighed quietly and stepped to the side so she could sit on the bed.

“Are you bleeding?” May asked, suddenly concerned.

Skye was prevented from answering when Jemma hurried into the room. “We should have your DNA results back any minute now. Brock’s too.” She looked through the glass and smiled brightly at Skye. “Once we know there’s nothing wrong, we’ll have you out of there.” Jemma looked at Skye and May, seeing May’s worried expression. “Something’s wrong?” she asked, her smile fading.

Skye moved the towel away, showing her cut up palm. “What the hell happened?” May demanded. Skye struggled to breathe calmly but it was a losing battle. “Skye?” May asked, her tone a little softer but just as worried when Skye still had problems answering.

“F-Fitz,” she began, struggling for words, only to be interrupted by the man himself.

“Fitz was a klutz again,” Fitz said, stepping up behind Jemma and May. “Uh, she's cleaning up the mess. Sorry. It was my fault. I knocked over the lamp when I was taking a sample of Skye's blood with one of those ridiculous hazmat suits on. Uh, I guess my coordination still needs work. But I was anxious to double-check the results.” He tapped the tablet screen and handed it to Jemma. “Her DNA is an exact match to what it was before. She's clear.” He put his hands on his hips, smiling at Skye reassuringly.

“Oh, thank God,” Jemma said, smiling with relief.

“I’m going to call Coulson. He could use the good news,” May said. Skye smiled and nodded her agreement. “You alright?” Skye nodded again, still trying to smile. She took a few more shaky breaths and began to calm down. May left, though Jemma stood by examining the data.

“Um, Skye, is your bunk made?” Fitz asked.

“Uh, no. It’s a mess,” she answered honestly. She hadn’t had time to clean up before their last mission. Just grabbed clean clothes and ran out the door again.

“Uh, well, maybe you could get her some clean sheets?” Fitz suggested, hoping to get Jemma out of the room. “She should probably rest.”

“Yes,” Jemma agreed, smiling again. “You deserve a good night’s rest.”

“Yeah, I mean, I... and I would do it, but last time I was in there, there was lots of ladies' things, and she's a slob, and… I don’t think Brock would like me touching her things, either.” Fitz gestured uncomfortably. “I'll help bandage her hands. It was my fault, anyway.”

“Okay.” Taking the tablet, Jemma left the room.

“Yeah,” Fitz muttered to himself as he opened the door to the quarantine unit, bandage packs in hand. He moved to kneel on the floor as Skye sat on the edge of the bed.

“What did you just do?” she asked softly.

“I switched your blood results with your old samples. Give me your hand,” he said, holding his hand out for hers.

Skye exhaled sharply. “The new samples are different?”

“Drastically. I couldn’t switch Brock’s; they already know about the thing with his eyes. His were going to be different. But yours… yours we could change, because there’s nothing anyone could see.”

“He’s right, Skye,” Brock said quietly, having heard the whole thing. “Coulson and Simmons would be suspicious if there wasn’t something different about mine.”

“But until everyone around here calms down, I don't think we should tell anybody about yours, what with the way Simmons is acting. For now, we should just keep it between us... keep you _safe_ until we figure it out, okay?” Skye nodded, her expression crumbling as she began to cry. She slid off the bed and into Fitz’s arms. “It’s okay,” he whispered, holding her gently.

“This is all my fault,” she sobbed softly.

“How?” he whispered, smoothing her hair with one hand.

“I could have stopped her. I let... I let this happen, and I'm so sorry.”

“No, it's okay,” he soothed as he held her tighter.

“No, everything's my fault.” She sniffled, trying to breathe. “You're right.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “There's something very wrong with me.”

“No, you're just different now.” She only cried harder for a moment, before attempting to calm down. “You're just different now, and there's nothing wrong with that,” Fitz told her, his voice calm and determined. Accepting, unconditionally, just the way she had tried to be for him after he woke from the coma. Skye clung tighter to him and he held her close until her breathing began to slow.

“Do me a favor, Fitz?” Brock asked quietly after a moment.

“Of course,” Fitz agreed.

“Look after her until things settle down. I don’t think I’ll be out of quarantine anytime soon,” Brock said, keeping his tone light though there was an undercurrent of worry.

“I will,” Fitz promised. “I care about her too.”

“I know you do, Fitz,” Brock said reassuringly. “And trust me, I’m happy to know that she’s never been alone even when I haven’t been here.”

Skye's breathing slowly steadied as she clung to Fitz. And then she rubbed her fingers over her wet cheeks and stood. "I'm going to Brock." Her tone brooked no argument.

"You'll have to wear a hazmat suit or you'll get quarantined again," Fitz warned.

"I don't care. I'm going to him. Now."

"All right then. I'll help you put it on, they're a nightmare if you aren't used to them."

It was about ten minutes before Skye was passing through the airlock into Brock’s quarantine cell. He was sitting on the bed waiting for her, held his arms out, and she rushed into them with a sob. Seeing the white bandage wrapped around his eyes shook her worse than she had expected.

Hugging Skye in the bulky hazmat suit was awkward at best, but Brock didn’t care. He held on for as long as she wanted, did his best to smile when she pulled back and held his face in her gloved hands.

"I've never seen you with a proper beard before," she tried to tease, though her voice was shaking.

"It's been a few days, love, and I can't exactly shave myself. Since I don't have to worry about chafing your tender skin right now, I could care less."

She chuckled weakly, but at least she could a little. “I’ll help, once we get you out of here too,” she promised. “If you want it gone, I’ll certainly try. I’ve never shaved anyone other than myself before, but if it’s what you want…”

He chuckled  back and nodded. “I trust you, sweetheart. But we’ll worry about it later. It’d be way too awkward in that suit.”

“You’re right, it would,” she agreed. “How are you doing?”

“Better than you are,” he answered with a shrug. “Skye, love, you know none of this is your fault, don’t you? We have no idea what would’ve happened if Raina had gone down there alone. She might have still changed, or something worse could have happened. There’s no way to know, so you can’t blame yourself.”

Skye sighed. “It makes sense when you say it that way, but…”

He squeezed her fingers gently. “We can’t turn the clock back, either. We just have to deal with whatever’s happened. Move forward.”

She looked at the white bandage around his head and said nothing.

“Skye,” Brock said quietly, “this changes nothing for you and me, as far as I’m concerned. Even if we can’t rebuild our bond. I love you, I will always love you. No matter what.” He hugged her around the waist, and she hugged him back awkwardly.

“Love you so much,” she muttered thickly.

“I know. Now listen to me,” he pulled back from the hug after a moment. “Go to your room and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll put up with quarantine for a few more days if I have to, let Simmons mess with my blood results, but after that I’m going to demand Coulson let me out. It seems pretty clear that this isn’t going to be infectious. That whatever that mist did to us was confined to the temple, and I need to learn if I can control this, whatever this thing is with my eyes. And I can’t do that while I’m trapped in here.”

Skye sighed, looking at the melted and fused light. “I wish I could stay with you.”

“I know. But it can’t happen yet, or you’ll get locked back up like a lab rat yourself. Fitz risked a great deal for you, Skye. Don’t waste it.” Gently, he pushed her back. “You need to appear normal, as much as you can. So go. Get some sleep. Ask May to train with you tomorrow. Get back to work. I’ve no doubt that with the success of Coulson’s mission against HYDRA, they’ve managed to strip some data. Go do what you do best.”

“What I do best,” Skye said quietly, touching his bearded cheek, “is love you.”

Brock turned his head to kiss the bulky glove. “We’ll be together again properly soon, my love,” he promised quietly. “Very soon.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So Skye’s in the clear - for now - but Brock isn’t. They’re just gonna have to be patient!**


	33. One Of The Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif and the Kree warrior arrive while Brock is still in quarantine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter take place during season 2 episode 12 and may use portions of dialogue from that episode._

[ ](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/grey%20shirt%203_zpswy3wlf4q.jpg.html)

“So when do I get out?” Brock asked Coulson a couple of days later. Coulson had taken to suiting up and coming in at mealtimes, sitting and telling Brock some of his plans, running theories by him. Brock couldn’t fault Coulson’s tactical instincts, for the most part. They’d just discussed the possibility of Mack becoming a field agent, and Hunter joining the staff permanently. Brock was all for both options. Especially Hunter. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was about Hunter that he liked so much, but the quick-witted mercenary was one of the few people in the world Brock would absolutely trust to have his back.

Coulson sighed, handing Brock another sandwich. “If it was entirely up to me, I’d have already let you out. But… Simmons is really rattled. Raina apparently became a literal monster, covered in thorns, killed two of our men. And now she’s running around somewhere in the world, on the loose, doing who knows what. And you…”

“I’m one of the monsters now too, huh?” Brock said it dryly. “One of the things that go bump in the night. The Man With Burning Eyes.”

Phil didn’t say anything for a moment. And then he said quietly “The whole team’s rattled, Rumlow. It’s going to take time.”

“I got plenty of that,” Brock gestured at his covered eyes.

“Yes, Agent May?” Phil said then, and Brock realised that she must have come up to the quarantine cell.

“Sir, a blue-dot operative in Portugal phoned in. You should hear what he has to say.”

“On my way,” Phil sighed, getting up.

Skye was the one who came back a little later. She didn’t suit up to come in, had to stand outside because she had so little time. “We’re going to Portugal,” she said, “it seems Lady Sif has turned up there.”

“Lady Sif the Asgardian?” Brock said in disbelief.

“Yes. Coulson wants to leave right away. Gave me five minutes to come and say goodbye.”

He stood, put his hand on the glass, knowing she’d put hers against it. “I love you. Take care,” he said, soft and deep. “Don’t die out there, as Hunter would have us say.”

“I won’t.” It was a choked gasp. “I love you, too. When I come back, we’re getting you out of there. No matter what.”

Brock shook his head. “Don’t think about that right now. Focus on your mission, on your team. Keep yourself and them safe.” He smiled, a little wryly. “I’ll be here when you get back. I’m not going anywhere while you’re gone. I promise.”

Skye nodded and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer. “I don’t know how you always make me feel better, but you do. I love you, and I’ll see you soon.”

“That’s better, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Go on, don’t keep Coulson waiting. I’ll see you soon.”

Skye tapped on the glass barrier once before walking away. Brock sighed. Time was going to pass very slowly while the team was gone. Perhaps now was the time to queue up one of the audio books Fitz and Skye had put on another iPod for him. Promised that if he just hit Play, the chapters would all be read in order.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye had a terrible feeling of impending doom as she and Bobbi searched through the hospital for the mystery man. Alien. Whatever the hell he was. And when they came face to face with him and he turned out to be _blue_ \- like the alien corpse Coulson had described to her when telling her about the Guest House - well, the feeling exploded into full-blown panic, a certainty that the alien warrior was for some reason here for _her_ , and for Brock. She began to shake with fear, with the realisation that if this alien wasn’t the only one, if there were others - they’d left Brock blind, defenceless and alone but for some lab technicians who were in no way equipped to defend him against the _thing_ that had just thrown Bobbi across the room.

She barely retained consciousness when the shelving fell over her. Just enough to see the warrior look down at her curiously before he vaulted over the fallen mess and ran for it.

“Do you think he’s a Kree?” she asked Sif, and then realised that she shouldn’t have any reason to ask about Kree. Raina’s and her father’s ramblings about the Diviner had set the idea in her head, though, and nobody else seemed to pick up on it, especially not Lady Sif,who only said;

“If a Kree came to your world unannounced now, I would assume he’s up to no good.”

_Who would he announce himself to?_ Skye had to wonder.

She saw Fitz looking hard at her, slipped away at the earliest possible moment and met him in a quiet, secluded spot in the Bus’s storage hold.

“The whole room was shaking, Fitz,” she whispered tensely. “The gun in my hand _exploded_.”

“Oh, God,” Fitz paled.

“I thought I could handle it, but I can’t. It’s too much. Whenever I get upset or nervous - and that’s all the time, with my bond to Brock broken - I just - I feel like it’s trying to _burst_ out of me. It’s like a thousand bees buzzing under my skin! I - I think we have to tell Coulson what’s happening.”

“Skye,” Fitz’s expression was concerned. “Just - don’t let’s jump the gun. I’m running a diagnostic on your blood samples right now. And, you know, once you’re able to bond with Rumlow again this might all settle down…”

She clenched her fists, squeezed her eyes shut. “You don’t _know_ , Fitz, you can’t understand how it feels! I’m - it’s like part of my brain is missing, not working right!”

“Actually I think I know exactly how that feels,” he said quietly.

“Oh God. Oh God, I’m sorry…” she reached out, and he accepted the hug.

“It’s all right. We’ll both be all right. We’re just different now. And it’s okay.”

“Sorry to interrupt - whatever this is,” Hunter said dryly, and they pulled apart from the hug, startled that they hadn’t heard the mercenary approach. “Watch it, Fitz,” Hunter said a little teasingly, “You wouldn’t want to cross Rumlow.”

“Hehe,” Fitz laughed nervously, and he and Skye both hastily made excuses to flee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coulson and May both looked concerned when she asked to sit the mission out. But Skye managed to bluff her way through. She was firmly convinced that she’d only be a hazard to the team anyway right now. God, how she wished to call Brock, have him reassure her, but… all the Bus’s communications were monitored. She couldn’t risk it.

When she went to see Simmons she hesitantly told the other woman about some of the symptoms of the broken bond as well as the headache and other assorted pains from the incident at the hospital. Jemma made sympathetic noises and gave Skye some painkillers.

“I know it seems unfair for us to keep you and Brock apart right now. I can understand wanting to see if your bond can be re-established,” she said, and for a moment Skye caught a glimpse of the old Jemma. “But we just can’t risk letting you into quarantine with him. He could be dangerous to you.”

Skye shook her head. “Brock would never hurt me, Jemma. You know that.”

“He might not mean to, Skye,” Jemma refuted. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. We still have no idea what caused such a drastic change, and it could happen to you too!”

With a deep breath, Skye nodded but didn’t answer. So she just thanked Jemma for the painkillers and said she was going to go rest until the others got back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the team returned to the Playground, Skye wanted nothing more than to head straight for Brock. But she knew that with the Kree on base, she needed to help Coulson figure things out. So she went with him when he went to join May, Sif and Vin-Tak.

Listening to Sif and the Kree bicker was mildly entertaining, until they started discussing Terrigenesis.

“Blue angels who fell from the sky,” Skye muttered to herself, remembering Raina’s story. Sif continued to speak, though, and Skye’s attention was captured again. Especially when Vin-Tak continued to answer her questions; honestly as far as she could tell, and with no pretense at softening the description.

Skye was terrified.

She caught a silent exchange between May and Coulson when Sif asked if the one transformed had been put down. As if in accord, they made no mention of Brock and May shot a look at Skye, but no one needed to tell her not to mention him to these two. Trapped in quarantine and _blind_ , her soulmate would be an easy target. She knew he’d fight back, but between two aliens and his current handicap… his success would be seriously in question.

“Was there anyone else with you?” Vin-Tak asked intently when she said she didn’t see anything. “The changes may not be on the surface, but buried _inside._ ”

Skye didn’t answer, but she saw a nearby glass of water starting to shake. She felt a low rumbling beginning, though the others hadn’t noticed yet. She bit her lip and tried to keep it inside, not wanting to draw attention to herself. But she didn’t know how.

“You must understand,” the Kree went on, “these creatures are weapons… abominations. Even if they don’t know it.”

His words caused her fear to spike again, and the room began to tremor noticeably.

“Son of Coul, what is this?” Sif demanded as they all shifted on their feet to keep their balance. Coulson had no answer and just looked bewildered. But May looked right at Skye.

“Skye,” she said in a low voice, tension tightly held. “You want to talk to us?”

Coulson approached; Skye looked up at him, her gaze fixed on his as he stopped right in front of her. “Skye, what’s doing this?” he asked, almost as if he didn’t really want to know but had to ask.

“I am,” Skye gasped out. Sif tried to grab her arm, but Skye pulled out of her grasp and backed away from everyone. She held her head in her hands, then clenched her fists in attempt to keep the power contained. And ultimately she failed, as evidenced by the abrupt shattering of glass behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Fitz ran down the hallways to retrieve Bambino, he detoured to the quarantine unit that still held Brock. Ignoring protocols and everything else, he shoved open the door and ran inside.

“Who’s there?” Brock called out. He sat on the floor, the bed between himself and the breakable equipment.

“It’s Fitz,” the engineer said.

“What the _hell_ is going on, Fitz?” Brock demanded. “Is Skye causing this?”

“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” Fitz said. He grabbed Brock’s hands and pulled him to his feet. “Look, there’s some people after her and anyone else who got changed down there. And I’m sure as hell _not_ gonna leave you a sitting duck in here.”

Brock hesitated only a moment before freeing one hand and ripping off the bandage wrapped around his head. “Well, if they think I can’t defend myself, they’re very wrong.”

“Please don’t open your eyes, please just come,” Fitz begged. “We’ll go to the Bus, you can hide in the Cage - everyone just left the Bus, they won’t think to look for you there…”

“Hiding from a fight’s not really my bag, Fitz.”

“I’m not sure even your, um, enhancements will let you stand against an Asgardian and a Kree both,” Fitz replied, his tone frantic. “May’s got Skye and I need to get a bigger weapon for Coulson; please, just come!”

“Let’s get that weapon,” Brock said decisively. “We can’t leave Coulson hanging, waiting for it. We can go to the Bus after.”

“But,” Fitz began, but Brock shook his head.

“No time, Fitz. Trust me, I’ve trained for emergencies like this. It’ll be alright, but we have to _go._ ”

“Okay, okay!” Hand on Brock’s arm, the two hurried to the storage locker to find Bambino. Brock was in much better physical condition, so keeping up with Fitz even blind wasn’t much of a challenge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As he followed after Fitz - cursing this damn change that had caused him to be so nervous about opening his eyes - Brock strained his other senses. He could hear shouts further away in the base, the sound of running feet. Fitz seemed to be too out of breath to talk, particularly once he’d picked up the huge gun.

“Shit, Bobbi’s fighting the Kree!” Fitz cursed, and suddenly he’d pulled away from Brock’s arm and stepped forward. There was a _whumping_ sound and the hairs on Brock’s arms stood on end.

“If someone doesn’t tell me what the fuck is going on I’m going to open my eyes and seriously unfortunate things are going to happen,” he said when there was no sound for about half a minute.

“Sorry, Rumlow,” Bobbi’s voice said. She sounded breathless, strained. “Why are you out of quarantine?”

“Fitz nobly decided he didn’t want to leave me trapped in a cage waiting to be executed,” Brock said sarcastically. He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, and then Simmons said in a small voice;

“We wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“You were talking about putting Raina down,” Fitz said sharply. “The Kree was talking about putting _Skye_ down. If he found out about Rumlow, he’d have wanted to put _him_ down too.”

“He was fucking _what_?” Brock tensed.

“He’s down, Rumlow, we’re not going to let it happen,” Bobbi said quickly.

“ _Where_ is Skye?” He could feel his muscles tensing, coiling, ready for action. It took a huge effort of will to keep his eyes closed.

“Sif went after her,” Jemma said nervously.

Brock opened his eyes.

Glass exploded across the room, and a moment later Bobbi was on him, landing a hard punch under his chin. It jerked his chin up, and there was a sizzling sound as his eyes went up to the ceiling.

“Shut your fucking eyes, Rumlow!” Bobbi yelled, “or I’m gonna have to knock you unconscious!”

Snarling with fury, he shut them. “ _Take me to Skye_. And if Sif has hurt her, Asgardian or not, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

“All right. Fitz, you stay here with Bambino, shoot him again if he stirs.”

“They were headed for Vault D, I think,” Jemma said, in that same small voice.

“Oh fucking hell, not down there, that’s the last thing Skye needs!” Brock growled. “Come on, Morse, let’s go.”

“All right.” Bobbi’s strong hand landed on his arm, threaded through it. It was easy to walk beside her, since they were close to the same height and her stride matched his.

They arrived down at Vault D in time to hear Sif say incredulously; “She harmed herself. Even though she knew it meant giving up her freedom. All to save the rest of you.”

“She’s ICERed herself,” Bobbi said hastily in Rumlow’s ear as she guided him down the steps. Her voice sounded just the slightest bit surprised.

“I’m pretty sure that she did it to save me, actually,” he said loudly as they reached the bottom. He sensed Sif’s movement, heard the rasp of steel.

“Who is this, Son of Coul?” she demanded.

“This is Agent Brock Rumlow,” Phil said with a sigh. “He too was down in the Kree temple when the Diviner was activated. He and Skye are soulmates.”

“The change - affected your eyes?” Sif asked quietly, approaching closer. Brock tensed.

“It did. If I open them… unfortunate things happen. Therefore, I choose not to open them.”

“You willingly accept blindness to avoid harming others,” she said wonderingly.

“I don’t want to be turned into a weapon. Skye won’t accept that either. We’ll find a way to fix this, or contain it. We’re no threat to you. Or Skye isn’t. If you try to harm her, you’ll find that I could probably be really _very_ threatening, actually.”

Sif chuckled quietly at that, and he heard the soft rasp of steel again as she sheathed her sword. “If she is your soulmate, no doubt she would be equally fierce in your defence.”

“Understatement of the century,” Coulson muttered.

Sif bowed her head to Rumlow, then to Coulson - with Bobbi very softly whispering a by-play to Brock. “Very well; I shall leave these two with SHIELD. Even though Kree meddling has changed them, soulbonds are too rare to deny. It is my belief that they shall balance each other, should any instability arise.”

Coulson and May exchanged a glance and Rumlow managed to relax, a small amount. “Thank you, Lady Sif,” Coulson said. “I do not believe your faith will be misplaced. Rumlow and Skye are strongest together.”

Sif turned to Rumlow, her expression serious and she took a half-step closer; enough that Rumlow could in a small way sense her presence and her intensity. “You and Lady Skye will have to trust each other utterly,” she said, her tone heavy with warning. “You must watch each other’s behavior and ease one another’s emotions to prevent doing harm to others.”

“We do and we will,” Rumlow answered, his tone just as serious as hers. “We keep no secrets from each other, Lady Sif, and we don’t plan to start. And I will make sure that she understands that if one of us becomes a risk, it is the other’s responsibility to do something about it.”

“Then I believe you will do well,” Sif said, a trace of a smile softening her features. She looked from Rumlow to Coulson. “Should you require assistance for them, I believe Asgard may be willing to help, if only to preserve their soul bond.”

“If we need it, we’ll send word,” Coulson agreed. “But I truly think Skye is better off with us. If you take her away from the people she loves most, she’ll have no reason to fight for control.”

“As you say, Son of Coul,” Sif answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **One hurdle overcome, though it assuredly won’t be their last. Is Jemma beginning to mellow a little sooner than in the show? With how close Jemma and Skye were in S1 and the early part of S2, I always wondered how things got so bad after San Juan. We can’t change everything, but in this universe she’s not grieving for Trip. So that’s something.**
> 
>  


	34. Rebuilding The Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Brock are finally released from the restrictions of quarantine - and waste no time in an attempt to rebuild their bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter takes place between/during S2 episodes 12-13, and may contain portions of dialogue from those episodes._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/Rumskye%2013_zpsf4wqh6fi.jpg.html)

Coulson and Brock agreed that while he and Skye didn’t need to stay in quarantine any longer, probably the Cage on the Bus was the safest place for them. At least until they started to figure out their powers.

“I’ll pack some things for Skye,” May offered, since Skye was still unconscious from the ICER. “She’s safe enough down here for the moment; we can let her sleep while we get everything set up.”

“Do you have any idea what being down here does to Skye?” Brock asked incredulously. “If we let her wake up down here, particularly alone, she’ll panic.”

“Stay with her, then,” Coulson suggested. “It won’t take long. I’ll get Trip and Fitz to help.” He waved Bobbi and May towards the stairs and moved to assist Rumlow to sit beside Skye himself. When they were alone, he said quietly, “I’m planning to send Trip out on your rounds. We don’t want to neglect the people out there, and after you I think he’s our best choice.”

Brock thought for a moment, then nodded. “Not a bad plan, boss. Trip’s got a tolerant enough personality that I think he’ll do fine. There are one or two people who may not trust him without an introduction, though.”

“We’ll work on that,” Coulson agreed. “For now, let me get things set up for you and Skye. I’ll be back soon.”

Left alone in the Vault, Brock found Skye’s hand and took it gently in his own. “Hang on, sweetheart. We’ll make it through this,” he whispered softly to her.

A short time later, Brock heard footsteps on the stairs. He looked up reflexively, though he kept his eyes closed. Before he could ask who was there, he heard Trip speak up, “Hey, man, it’s Trip. I volunteered to get you and Skye to the Bus.”

“Thanks. Seems like about half the team is set to avoid us,” Brock said, his tone low and resigned.

“Give it time,” Trip advised. “There’s a lot got unsettled by this; it’ll get better.”

“I sure hope so.”

Trip gently lifted Skye into his arms as Brock got to his feet. Then Trip stepped to Brock’s right. “Okay, I’ve got Skye all curled up and cute,” he said, his tone lightly teasing. “If you just reach up your right hand, you can rest it on my shoulder. I’ll make sure nothin’s in our way.”

Brock did as instructed, finding Trip’s shoulder easily. “You done this before?” he asked curiously.

“A few times. My granddad didn’t see too well by the time I was about ten.” Brock could tell Trip was grinning just by his voice as they started slowly up the stairs. “But the stories he told made it worth the slow-going to help get him around.”

Brock chuckled. “I feel safer already,” he quipped. Trip's smiles were hard to resist; apparently even to someone who couldn’t see them.

“Glad to hear it,” Trip answered, laughing. “Just a few more steps, now. We’re almost to the top.”

They made it to the Bus without incident, where Fitz was setting up Skye’s laptop on a small table and May was busy putting sheets on a bed. It was very plain - no head or foot-board, just a frame and the mattress and box underneath it. But the frame was high enough that Brock was comfortable sitting on it when Fitz led him over to it after Trip settled Skye. The bed already made the small room seem much smaller; it was just as well that they hadn’t tried to bring in something larger.

“Much better than the floor,” Brock said with a smile. “Thanks.”

“I’ve set the computer to tap communications and also allow you to turn the cameras on and off,” Fitz explained. “We-we wanted you to-to have privacy when you want it. They’re off right now.”

“This is just a short-term solution,” May said, agreeing with Fitz. “You’re not going to be locked in. It’s just to contain your powers and Skye’s until we can learn more about them.”

“I understand. If I had a better idea, I’d suggest it,” Brock said with a sigh. “But we’ll manage. I’ll talk to Skye when she wakes.”

“If you need anything…” Fitz began, but Brock cut him off.

“We’ll call,” Brock said. “If you guys want to just stock the kitchen on the Bus for us, that’d be great. Skye ought to be able to make short trips out for food.”

“We’ll be in and out,” May said in a low voice. “You’re not alone here, Rumlow. We’ll figure it out.”

“I know, Melinda,” Brock said quietly. “Let me know if you find anything. For now, don’t you have aliens to send home?”

May smirked. “Yep. Come on, guys. Let’s leave them alone.”

Trip clapped Brock on the shoulder. “Good luck, man. I’ll be seeing you.”

They let themselves out and Brock sighed as the door closed. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out beside Skye; even in her sleep she sought him, and she relaxed just slightly as he shifted her head onto his shoulder. He didn’t think she’d be out too much longer; it was only one ICER round.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye woke to surroundings very different than she expected. When she’d shot herself with the ICER, she’d been in the Vault with May. She blinked her eyes open and the first thing she saw was Brock; her head pillowed on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her gently. “Brock?” she whispered in a groggy voice.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he assured her gently.

“What happened?” She pushed herself up and looked around. She recognized the Cage immediately and frowned. Then she saw her laptop and a couple of water bottles on a table and registered that they were on a queen sized bed - definitely not things the Cage usually contained. In addition, the books she’d been reading and a small dock for the iPod so they could listen to music together sat beside the laptop.

“We’ve been moved in here temporarily, until we can get a handle on our powers,” he explained in a low tone. “The hope is that the Cage will contain our powers for now.”

“And if not, we can damage less on the Bus than in the Playground,” Skye agreed with a sigh. “Well… at least we’re together. _Finally._ ”

Brock smiled at her. “And I think we should take advantage of that,” he agreed. “Don’t you?”

“How so?” she asked, curiously. Rather than answer verbally, his fingertips traced lightly over her lower back where her soulmark was. Her breath caught in her throat and she leaned into his touch. “Oh, _yes_. Yes, _please_.”

His hands were gentle and sure as he stripped her clothes from her, despite his lack of vision. Skye relaxed into Brock's touch, letting him take the lead, aware even though their bond was broken that he needed that, needed to take charge, have control over _something_ , as he had not since the Diviner opened and changed them both.

"So beautiful," Brock whispered, rediscovering Skye's body anew without his sight, taste and touch and scent so deliciously familiar. "Love you so much, baby. Nothing's ever going to change that." Inwardly, though, he was more than a little terrified that their bond might be permanently broken. It had never been as strong as some soulmate bonds he'd heard of, but then circumstances had conspired to make it impossible for them to be together as much as they'd wanted to.

"I know," Skye replied, her hands tracing gently over the breadth of his shoulders, his strong neck, up to frame his face in her hands. "Now you're going to be careful with this beard, aren't you?" she asked teasingly.

Brock chuckled darkly. "Don't fancy beard burn on your thighs, love?"

“Not so much, though I’ll deal for the sake of having your tongue on my clit,” she answered flippantly, an undertone of laughter in her voice. He growled softly and nipped at her throat; she just laughed quietly and tipped her head back, lifting her chin to bare her neck further.

Her hands ghosted over his shoulders as he kissed down her neck. Trailed lips and tongue over the soft mound of her breast until he found her nipple, nipping and sucking even as the little bud tightened in his mouth. Even the soft rasp of his beard over her skin tantalized her nerves, and she moaned. “Missed this so much,” she whispered. “Missed _you_ so very much.”

“Missed you too, baby. Gonna show you just how much,” he promised. He switched breasts, lavishing the same attention on the second as he had on the first. She just tangled her fingers into his hair and let him, perfectly willing to be whatever he needed.

She moaned when he shifted downward again. Spread her legs a little further. She felt his hands settle on her hips and press her into the mattress as his tongue began slowly moving over her folds. Mapping by feel, refreshing his memory of her body without sight. He breathed deeply, taking in her familiar body-smell, and groaned as he recognized the scent of her arousal.

Skye whimpered, her hips shifting but unable to buck upwards as his tongue teased her everywhere but where she really wanted him. “Such a fucking _tease_ ,” she grumbled and she felt more than heard him chuckle. “You know, it feels really weird this way. I’d got so used to _knowing_ you enjoy this, to feeling what you feel, that I’d forgotten what it was like to only feel what I feel.”

Brock laughed again. “I know what you mean, baby,” he lifted his mouth away from her in order to reply, but he quickly moved one hand to trace her opening with his fingertips, still teasing her slowly. “But I last longer this way.”

“You think I care about that?” she lifted herself up on her elbows to look down at him, her tone incredulous. When he didn’t respond, she sat up completely and grabbed his chin in her hand, diving in to kiss him deeply. “Even if you didn’t have the refractory period of a teenager, I still wouldn’t care. I love knowing that our bond holds us so deeply that you come when I do. That it feels so good for both of us that there’s just no way you can hold off.”

He smiled at that. "Never been able to hold out all that long once I got inside you anyway, love. You feel too good." His fingers were still playing a wickedly teasing game around her clit. "Which is why I always like to make sure you come at _least_ once first." His mouth returned to her breast, the movements of his fingers speeding up until she sobbed out his name.

"That's it," he lavished kisses across her breasts, sighing with pleasure as she clenched tight on his fingers. "That's it, baby, so perfect."

"Please," Skye's arms linked around his neck. "Please, Brock, I need you so much. Need our bond back."

He hesitated only a moment before shifting back, putting his back to the wall and sitting up. "Come sit on my lap then, love."

Skye chuckled softly, crawling over and seating herself on his thighs, her back against his heavily muscled chest. "Like this?"

"Sure works for me," Brock agreed laughingly, stroking his hands up her sides and curving them over her breasts, his lips nuzzling at her neck.

"Ahhhhh," Skye moaned as he suddenly pinched sharply at both her nipples.

She wriggled her hips, feeling his cock hard against her ass. Brock groaned and tweaked her nipples again in retaliation. “Now who’s the tease, baby?” he asked, his voice low and husky. Skye only moaned again and lifted her hips so she could position his cock at her entrance. The long slow slide into her body felt like heaven to both of them, and the sudden flood of sensation as their marks met was even stronger than they remembered.

“Oh, God. Oh, Brock, _yes_ ,” Skye cried out, not caring if anyone was near enough to hear.

Brock’s arms clamped around her body, holding her immobile as sensation and emotion washed over them both like a tidal wave. As good as their bond had felt before, as close as they’d thought they were to each other, what forged between them in that moment was far beyond either of their imaginations. Where their bond had been lesser, now it was _more,_ as _they_ were more than before their change.

For Brock, it was the first moment he had been without pain in his eyes since the Diviner changed them. He was just about to open them when he realised, to his incredulous shock, that he could already see. But his perspective was off by about four inches, and he realised that he was seeing through Skye's vision. That they were so deeply, intimately entwined that he could actually use her senses as his own.

"So _strong_ ," Skye whispered, and Brock understood that she was sensing the power in his enhanced body, the strength he was constantly mindful of with her.

" _Skye_ ," he whispered softly in response, still holding her close. Climax had hit them both in the first instant of the bond completing, but neither of them wanted to separate, to loosen the bond that connected them so intimately, as they both knew instinctively would happen when they separated.

With his chin on Skye's shoulder, facing across the room, Brock risked opening his eyes. Nothing happened - there was no burning sensation, no flare of light.

"I can see again," he said quietly.

"What?" Skye twisted at the waist, trying to see.

"Don't look directly, just in case," he warned.

Mindful of his warning, she peered side-on at his opened eyes. "They look the same as they always did," she told him. "Do you think whatever it is - is fixed?"

"No. I can still feel it there. Like a heat behind my eyes."

"Like the vibrations are still there for me," Skye mused. "It feels like buzzing, under my skin. I only can't control it when I lose control of my emotions."

" _Negative_ emotions," Brock corrected, a thread of laughter in his voice. "Or I'm not sure the Bus would still be intact."

Skye giggled and pinched his thigh gently. "Do you think your eyes will be okay still when we..."

"Separate? Much as I hate the idea, we really should test it."

She wiggled off him, and even as they parted, Brock felt the pain begin to build up again. He closed his eyes with a hiss.

Testing a theory, Skye moved back into his arms, pressed close but not in a sexual way. Oh, she still wanted him. That never stopped.  But she was mostly curious if it was her proximity or physical touch that helped, or if they were only safe when having sex.

Curled up against his chest, she peeked up at him from under her lashes, waiting to let him assess what he felt. She could feel it, sort of dimly; a sensation of heat and pressure behind his eyes that became painful when it built up.

Brock held her close, enjoying being able to hold her again with no barriers or protective suits between them. But in spite of the distraction of his gorgeous soulmate, he still kept part of his mind on analyzing the feelings his power caused. Trying to decide if it was safe to try to open his eyes again.

“I feel,” he said after a few long moments, “that it’s tied to emotions for me, too. Even though I feel good, lying here with you right now, the very fact of me worrying about my eyes makes them feel worse.”

Skye stroked her fingers over his chest gently, soothingly. “You always seem so controlled on the surface, like May. But I can feel how you hold things deep inside, now. Did you always do that, and I just couldn’t feel it, before?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “It’s how I was trained. May too, I suppose. Use what you can and bury the rest.”

“She’s been trying to teach me that too. But I don’t know if I can.”

“You have to,” Brock said bleakly, “we both do. Or these gifts we’ve been cursed with are going to run out of our control.”

“And then what?” Skye whispered against his neck.

He could only hug her tightly, knowing that even if he couldn’t bear to say the words aloud, she’d know what he was thinking. If they couldn’t be controlled, couldn’t control _themselves_ \- SHIELD would put them down. Or they’d try, at least. Brock guessed that Coulson would give them every opportunity, all the help he could manage - because Phil had to know that if SHIELD made a move against Skye, then Brock would go to war.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Because no one messes with Brock’s soulmate, dammit. Or Skye’s, for that matter - she’s nearly as scary as he is, at this point, when her protective streak is engaged.**


	35. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Skye get a few visitors with some ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place before and during S2 episode 13 and may use portions of dialogue from the episode.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/Rumskye%2014_zpsmz6ipnkp.jpg.html)

The team left them alone for a full two days, though when Skye ventured out she found that May had made good on her promise to stock the fridge. There was even a casserole ready-made in a dish which she just had to heat up, which she suspected was Phil’s work. There were a lot of vegetables in it.

The following morning, though, there was a tentative tap on the Cage door, and Jemma’s voice called;

“Are you two decent?”

“Approximately!” Skye called back with a chuckle. She had a T-shirt and yoga pants on, and Brock was on the floor wearing just cargo pants and doing push-ups. Skye was enjoying the view.

“Oh, my goodness,” Jemma said on opening the door and being confronted by a lightly sweating mass of male muscle on the floor, and Skye laughed at her.

“Are you ever going to get over that reaction around hot muscly guys, Jemma?”

“Probably not,” she admitted, cheeks pink. “Is it very wrong of me to admit that I kind of hope my soulmate isn’t a lab nerd like me? Or that if he is, he’s the kind who works out as well?”

Skye snickered.  “Nope, not wrong at all. I’m sure he’ll be just the kind of guy you’d want him to be, though. That’s kind of what soulmates are all about, after all,” she said teasingly. “Anyway, what’s up?”

“Oh! Right. Well,” Jemma stuttered, trying to focus on Skye. Fortunately, Skye wasn’t worried in the slightest and just laughed again. “Actually I came to see Brock,” Jemma admitted, “though I wasn’t expecting, um, quite that much of him.”

Brock snorted. “You never sneaked into the gym to watch STRIKE agents working out then, Simmons?”

“No!” Jemma claimed, though her cheeks went even redder and Skye wondered if she was being entirely honest. “Look - Phil asked me to come talk to you about your eyes. See if we can find something that’s a better solution than blindfolding yourself, even temporarily. Fitz and I made up some lenses of different kinds of crystal and metal composites, thought we could try and see if they’re affected by the - whatever the thing in your eyes is. And then Fitz is going to make a visor or something to fit them in, make it more comfortable for you.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Brock agreed, finishing his count of push-ups and getting to his feet. Jemma watched in puzzlement as he walked across the Cage without hesitation to pick up a water bottle. With his eyes closed.

“What…?” she began.

“Brock can see, a limited amount, through my eyes when we’re close enough,” Skye admitted. “Now that we’ve rebonded.”

“He can? You have? But - that’s wonderful!” Jemma enthused.

“If anything, it’s stronger than before,” Brock said in a low voice. “The bond, I mean. But yes, in close proximity I can borrow Skye’s view, though it’s taking some getting used to.”

“I can imagine! It would be a lot like trying to draw while only looking in a mirror. Her view wouldn’t line up with where your own eyes would place something unless you were right behind her,” Jemma mused thoughtfully, distracted by this new dimension. “I’ve never heard of a soulbonded pair that could use each other’s senses. It’s all quite intriguing. I wonder what caused it…”

“So, you have these lenses to try?” Skye prompted after a moment, and Jemma blinked.

“Oh, right, of course. Did you want to try them in here? Or..?”

Skye shrugged and looked at Brock. “I haven’t really seen what Brock’s eyes do, so…”

“It would definitely be best to keep experiments to somewhere that I can’t do a lot of damage,” Brock answered with a shrug. “If this thing can withstand Asgardians, it’s probably fine. As long as we keep the electronics out of my sight.”

“Well let’s seat you with your back to them, then,” Jemma said promptly. “Then Skye and I can stand behind you and out of the danger zone then too.”

“Danger zone?” Skye looked at Jemma, a little puzzled.

Brock could already feel himself tensing up in reaction to the slight thread of fear he could sense in Jemma’s voice. “She’s right, Skye. It might be dangerous and I won’t put you at risk.”

“Oh-kay,” Skye agreed, and the three of them moved to the desk at the side of the Cage, Brock seating himself and turning the chair to face away from Skye’s laptop on the desk.

“Do you think, if you opened your eyes right now - the light would be there?” Jemma asked hesitantly, and Skye looked at her curiously, because Jemma sounded really spooked. She couldn’t help but wonder just what Jemma had seen when she tried to examine Brock’s eyes.

“Probably. I can feel burning in my eyelids, anyway.” Brock didn’t mention that he suspected his physical enhancements meant his eyelids were probably healing just fast enough to keep up with the burns his eyes were inflicting.

“Okay. Well, don’t open them just yet. I’m going to put a pair of glasses on you. They’ve got a different lens over each eye.”

He felt her fingers brush lightly against the sides of his head, then the bridge of the glasses settling on his nose.

“All right, open your eyes.”

There was a flare of white light, a sizzling noise, and a sound like splintering glass.

“Shut them!” Jemma yelped hastily.

Skye started to breathe faster.

“Stop, honey,” Brock reached for her hand, grabbed it quickly. “I’m here. You’re safe. We’re both safe. That was just the first try, wasn’t it, Simmons?”

“Yes, yes, definitely, good thing I brought a dustpan and brush…” he felt her sweeping up around his feet. “All right, so those were pretty much just regular glass laced with metallic elements, cadmium and cobalt.”

Skye’s fingers tightened around Brock’s. He didn’t have to ask to know that she’d been shocked by the light that came from his eyes. But they’d talk about it later, once Simmons was gone.

Jemma tried half a dozen different lenses, all with the same result. Finally, though, only one lens of the pair on Brock’s eyes cracked.

“Hmm,” Jemma said thoughtfully, leaning in to look. “Can you open just your right eye again, Agent Rumlow?”

He did. And while the world seemed a little blurry - and distinctly blue-tinged, through the lens - and he could actually feel the heat radiating back against his face, the lens didn’t crack.

“Excellent. Expensive, but excellent,” Jemma said triumphantly.

“What are they?” Brock closed his eyes for her to take the lens off.

“Laboratory-grown sapphire crystals. Used in the nose-cones of supersonic rockets, actually. They can absorb extreme heat. I’ll get Fitz to make you up some lenses, or a visor - you’re still getting leakage of light out to the sides, and it still feels, um, extremely hot, so a visor might be best. He should have it ready by tonight. You’ll be able to move around a bit more easily, then.”

After she’d left - with her dustpan full of shattered crystal and glass - Brock reached out and pulled Skye into his lap. “I take it that looked pretty bad, then?” He hadn’t really been able to focus on seeing through her eyes when concentrating so hard on his own.

Skye buried her face in his neck rather than reply, but he could feel her concern.

“It’s all right, baby. We’re going to get it under control. Both my change and yours. We’ll learn to manage it,” he soothed gently, stroking her back. “You and me. We’re gonna be just fine.”

With a sigh, Skye made herself begin to relax. With them so close and their bond so strong, her nerves certainly wouldn’t help him any. Brock had been coaching her, not quite the way May had but just as seriously. Skye knew that many people had concerns that Brock training Skye would see him going easy on her; not in this case, definitely. The emotional feedback loops could be a serious problem on any mission. Not that either of them would likely to be leaving the plane, or the base, anytime soon.

As Skye began to relax and Brock focused only on soothing and calming her, setting aside his own worry as counterproductive, he was able to open his eyes again and study her expression. As he watched, the tension lines around her eyes smoothed away and he held her just a little tighter, knowing that she responded well to positive feedback.

It was a little strange for her to see herself through his eyes; she hadn’t had a lot of opportunity to adjust to it yet; he’d kept his eyes closed the majority of their time together since re-bonding. For her safety, mostly, because she knew fully well that there were several times when his emotions had settled enough for it to be safe. But he refused to take chances, probably wisely.

Keeping her eyes closed, Skye lifted her head and kissed him softly. “I’m okay. I’m okay,” she said in a low voice. She smiled a bit. “Usually I’m the positive one.”

“Hey, everyone’s entitled to an off-day,” Brock answered gently, smiling back - she could feel the smile, even if she couldn’t see it at the moment.

Skye laughed softly and nodded. “I’ll try to do better.”

“You are doing better, sweetheart,” Brock assured her in a confident tone. “It takes some people years to do what you’ve been learning for just a few months. You’ve come an amazingly long way, and I’m proud of you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do it all the time, though,” Skye said softly. “I can’t be another May.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Brock answered with a shake of his head. “I’m always here if you need to let go for a while.”

Skye snickered. “Mmm. And you’re so good at getting me to unwind. I rather like your method of de-stress,” she answered huskily.

Brock groaned and pressed his lips to her hair. “Little minx,” he growled but he couldn’t help smiling when she laughed again. Her slender fingers were tracing lightly over his chest, and with a low growl he lifted her and carried her over to the bed.

There was another knock on the door at that moment, and they both sighed.

“Damn,” Brock muttered before calling “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” May’s voice said. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” he sat up, pulling Skye up to sit beside him, closing his eyes as he felt the heat start to build up again.

May came in, closed the door behind her. Glanced around and pulled up the chair, sitting down to face them both.

“You need to be put on the Gifted Index,” she said without preamble. “And since Skye’s gift, at least, appears to be tied to her emotions, Phil wants you to see a psychologist.”

“Who the hell could we trust with this?” Brock said sharply. “Most of SHIELD’s psychologists were on HYDRA’s payroll!”

“One wasn’t. He’d already left SHIELD, anyway. Dr Andrew Garner.”

Brock thought back. He vaguely remembered the man from one of his compulsory debriefings, actually. “Who can vouch for him?”

“I can.”

“How?” Brock asked, genuinely startled.

“It’s personal,” May answered. “But if you trust me as much as you say you do, then believe me when I say that he’s safe.”

Skye just listened for a few minutes. “You’re kidding, right?” she asked after a moment, her tone startled. “Me, with a shrink?”

“It’s standard procedure for anyone -” May began, but Skye cut her off.”

“But we’re not just anyone. We’re both agents!”

“Exactly. So you know it’s non-negotiable.” May’s expression was firm, determined. Skye sighed and turned to Brock.

“How can you just sit there and take this?” she asked seriously.

“I’ve had my fair share of psych evals, too, Skye,” Brock said in a low tone. “Don’t like ‘em, but hardly anyone does. But if May says this guy is good, and can help… I’m willing to trust her.”

Skye sighed. “Fine,” she agreed, resigned to the necessity. “But I don’t have to like it, either.”

“Andrew is good. He’s done this before,” May told her.

“So have I. I grew up in the system,” Skye muttered a little sulkily, and Brock felt her emotions rise, the memories of growing up being shuttled from foster family to orphanage and back again. He put his arm around her comfortingly. “I’ve been through enough of these to know that I hate them.”

“You’ll like this one.” There was an odd note in May’s voice, a half-smile on her lips.

“Yeah, how do you know that?”

May stood, heading for the door, and Skye just knew she was going to deliver a zinger of a parting line. Her SO didn’t disappoint. “Because I used to be married to him.”

“Oh my God!” Skye gasped as the door closed. “May was married?”

“I did know she used to be married, but not to whom,” Brock said, amused at her utter shock.

“I can’t imagine May married! What do you think the wedding was like? Did she go full-on bridezilla? I am so gonna ask her ex about it.”

“I’m betting they went to Vegas,” Brock chuckled, pulling her down onto the bed beside him. “Which, if you ever deign to marry me, would be my vote for how we do things.”

Skye considered that, knowing from the suddenly serious thread winding through his emotions that he meant it. “Are you proposing?”

“I could go down on one knee if you like,” he offered, “or you can just tell everyone I did.”

Skye chuckled at that. “It doesn’t feel like the right time, just now,” her fingers stroked lightly over his stubbled cheeks. “But yes. Of course I’ll marry you. In Vegas or anywhere else.”

He smiled and kissed her, slow and deep. As always Skye lost herself in the kiss, in the pleasure he took from it as well as her own.

“You better go lock the door, baby,” Brock murmured between kisses. “Just in case we get any more visitors.”

“Mm,” Skye mumbled. His rising arousal was feeding her own, and she struggled to move. “Do you care all that much?”

“I don’t, no. But it’s possible Fitz might need to come in and measure me for that visor, and do you really want to shock him back into a coma?”

That made her laugh, and eventually get up grumpily and go to lock the door. She stripped her clothes off on the way back to the bed. Relaxed and aroused, he’d felt comfortable and calm enough to open his eyes again, and watched her hungrily as she bent over him, tugging his shorts down so he could kick them off. And then she was kneeling between his legs, the light of mischief in her eyes as she trailed her fingers up his inner thighs, circled delicately around his balls.

“That look spells trouble,” Brock murmured. He could feel her anticipation, her genuine wish to do this. He didn’t have to ask if she was sure as she bent her head and licked a long stripe up his swollen cock.

“I realised I haven’t given you a proper blow job since we re-bonded,” Skye murmured between licks. “I want to know how it feels for you when I do.” Wrapping her hand around the base of his cock, she enveloped the tip in her mouth, wet and hot, tonguing delicately at the slit.

Brock groaned as Skye engulfed him, watching her and feeling her obvious enjoyment. He gathered her hair up and held it out of her way, but not otherwise directing her. She looked up and met his eyes, knowing that for the moment it was safe enough. He groaned again as she slid her mouth down his length.

Skye purred softly, enjoying her actions almost as much as he was. It felt amazing, and she reveled in her ability to make him feel so very good and the fact that she could feel it so strongly. In turn, Brock moaned as the vibrations transferred to him and Skye mentally smirked in satisfaction.

“Too good, baby,” his voice was low and throaty, his hand gentle as he massaged her scalp. “Feels so good… ahhhh,” as her cheeks hollowed and she sucked him in deep. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he rasped, and felt her smile in his mind, even though her lips were stretched around him. She bobbed her head slowly and he let out a hiss of breath as the pleasure raced along his nerves.

“Gonna come real quick if you keep doing that,” Brock groaned, and the knowledge of Skye’s satisfaction with the idea pushed him over the edge as she bobbed her head a little faster. He made a strangled sound and she gasped around him as she felt his orgasm, without the distraction of her own pleasure.

It was an incredible feeling, just being able to focus on him and experiencing what she made him feel. She didn’t stop right away either, drawing it out as much as possible and enjoying the sounds he made. It wasn’t until he tugged at her hair and she felt he was approaching that pleasure/pain line where everything got blurry that she released him with a final soft kiss. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up against his chest.

She giggled when he rolled half over her, pinning her to the bed with his weight. Despite her earlier tension and frustration she was so happy, and she knew he felt it too. “Let’s make sure you can hold onto that good mood through our meeting,” he murmured in her ear as his hand glided over her soft curves.

“You had to remind me,” she groaned, but even the thought of their shrink session wasn’t enough to keep her from arching up into his touch.

“I’ll make you forget again,” he promised in a low tone, his mouth trailing wetly down towards her breasts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, that would be plenty enough to make me forget about meetings or other stressful things! Brock can distract me any day.


	36. New Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Skye meet with Andrew, and they discover a serious downside to their bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episode 13, and may use portions of dialogue from the episode.

[ ](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/Rumskye15_zps2svtiqja.jpg.html)

It really hadn’t occurred to Skye that the shrink would want to see them both separately. Andrew Garner turned out to be a charming, handsome older man with a very pleasant manner, and in any other situation she’d probably have felt at ease with him at once. But the fact was that May led Brock off to take him to Fitz’s lab to go get fitted for his visor, leaving Skye alone with Dr Garner.

She immediately started panicking. “So!” she leaned forward, eyes wide. “Tell me about the wedding. I’m thinking May could go either way - understated or a full bridezilla. She can be a control freak.”

Garner saw straight through her attempts at deflection. Called her on her try at joking her way out of a corner. Started drilling gently down into her psyche.

“You’re an agent,” he said gently, “and I imagine you must be afraid you’re going to lose that.”

Skye froze. And he saw in her face that it was more than just that. More than the fear of losing the team that was the only family she’d ever had.

“Tell me,” he said quietly, and it exploded out of her, the fear she hadn’t dared acknowledge even to herself.

“It’s not me I’m afraid for. It’s Brock. If SHIELD won’t let us be agents any more, what do we have left? Where could we go? HYDRA know that he betrayed them. They’ll be hunting for him, they’ll never give up, there would be nowhere safe for us…” She had to stop and take a deep breath. Try to calm herself before the buzzing under her skin got too intense.

“I see,” Andrew said softly. And the Cage door burst open.

“Skye!” Brock was across the room in two strides, grabbing her into his arms. He held her tight, keeping his body between her and Andrew, turning to peer over his shoulder.

“Whatever the fuck you said to her, back off.”

He looked massive and darkly intimidating with the blue-glinting lenses in the black visor that wrapped around his head. Andrew sat very still and tried to look as unthreatening as possible.

“Actually she was telling me about you,” he said quietly. “And I’m going to confess something I’m not sure either of you know; you are the first soulmated pair ever to both be on SHIELD’s Gifted index. We’re entering new territory here.”

Brock took a deep breath, but Skye’s silent confirmation that Andrew was telling the truth did more to calm his anger than anything else. She burrowed into his chest for a moment longer, then pulled back. Responding to her unspoken request, Brock turned so when Skye shifted to lean her back on his chest that they both faced Andrew.

“I think we’ve also just demonstrated that there’s absolutely no point in separating us for these sessions,” Skye said, calmer with Brock nearby. “We’re going to know how the other is feeling no matter what, and we’re less likely to have a repeat of this if you keep us together.” She sighed. “I know that standard procedure is meant to allow a person to feel like they can open up about anything, because no one’s there to hear but the doctor… but with us…”

“We don’t always discuss everything, but Skye and I don’t keep secrets from each other if we can help it,” Brock finished for her.

Andrew studied them, silently taking in details of their body language and how much more relaxed Skye was with her soulmate there, then nodded. “Alright, we’ll work on this together,” he agreed in a calm, steady voice. “And I will make one more thing clear to you both.” He paused, considering his words, then continued. “I’m not here for SHIELD. Yes, I know, an evaluation is mandatory for the Index. But my priority isn’t Coulson or Melinda or your team. It’s you, the pair of you. Your mental health and well-being.”

Brock met Andrew’s gaze, quietly assessing and weighing the truth of his words. Slowly, he began to smile. “Well, that’s a change,” he said after a moment. Skye chuckled quietly but didn’t interrupt. “I’m pretty sure my well-being has been on the bottom of just about every priority list for the last decade or better.”

“Not mine,” Skye insisted in a low tone, and Brock squeezed her reassuringly. She smiled up at him and went to close the door. Brock settled on the bed and Skye sat beside him, leaving the chair for Andrew. “Alright. Let’s blaze some new territory.”

Andrew just looked at the pair of them for a long moment. “Why don’t you tell Brock what you just told me, Skye?” he asked. “It’s obviously something you’ve been holding in, perhaps something you hadn’t even acknowledged to yourself until just this moment, am I right?”

Brock shook his head. “You don’t have to say it out loud again, baby, I caught the gist from your mind,” he said gently. “It’s a fear I share,” he admitted to Andrew. “If we can’t stay with SHIELD - I well and truly burned all my other bridges when I turned on HYDRA and helped Captain America take down Project Insight. The only possible place left for us to go is the Avengers, if we can no longer be useful here. That said, I actually think they’d take us in, if we can get a handle on our powers. If we can’t, we’d only be a danger to everyone around us.”

“Especially me,” Skye said bitterly. “I can’t imagine Tony Stark would like me shaking his tower down if I got upset over something. They might take you, love…”

“You know as well as I do that we’re a package deal.” Brock pressed his lips against her hair, uncaring of Andrew watching them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tell me what you think.” May fixed Andrew with her best basilisk glare. Even though she knew very well it wouldn’t work on him.

“I think you absolutely must not attempt to separate them in any way,” was the calm response. “If they were anything other than soulmates, I’d call it the worst case of mutual codependency I’ve ever seen, but since they are… I’ll call it the tightest, deepest soulmate bond I’ve ever seen instead. Which is incredible considering you’ve told me how little time they’ve actually spent together.”

May sighed. Poured another shot of whisky into Andrew’s glass. He smiled and sipped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye was dreaming. And in her dream, she was standing behind a glass window, watching while Brock was led out, blindfolded, and stood up against a wall opposite a firing squad.

“Any last words for your lover?” a low, familiar voice said in her ear. She turned to see Ward standing behind her, a HYDRA patch on the shoulder of his combat uniform.

“Don’t do this,” she said despairingly.

“This is how we punish traitors, Skye,” Ward smiled mockingly. “HYDRA does not accept failure. Fire,” he gave the order to the men lined up with their rifles, and Skye screamed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dragged slowly down into nightmare with her, Brock’s dreams were even worse, because he knew only too well what HYDRA did with Gifted. He saw von Strucker’s face in his nightmares, saw the man’s smile as he cut slowly into Skye’s skin.

“Discovery requires experimentation,” Whitehall’s skull said from a jar on the table.

Brock screamed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wake up! Wake up, Skye, Brock, for God’s sake, you have to wake up!” Andrew and May shook them both frantically, barely able to keep their feet as the Bus shuddered, Jemma standing behind them, a syringe of sedative in her hand.

Brock’s eyes snapped open first, and he curled around Skye protectively before realising what was happening, shutting his eyes with a pained wince and reaching out to her with his mind, soothing her as quickly as he could. Skye opened her eyes to look at him uncomprehendingly and he kissed her, reassuring her silently that everything was all right, that they were both safe.

The tremors subsided, and May collapsed back to sit on her heels, waving Jemma back.

“Go,” Andrew said quietly. “I’ll stay, talk with them.”

It was so far outside May’s realm of experience that she just nodded silently, getting up and sending Jemma out ahead of her. “Go back down to the base,” she told Jemma quietly. “I know you’ve not been sleeping well. Get some rest.” She collapsed to sit down on one of the couches in the lounge once the younger woman had left, head in her hands. “What the hell are we going to do?” she asked herself quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What were you dreaming about?” Andrew asked point blank.

Skye shrank down into herself, and against Brock, who held her tightly, trying to soothe her, but his mind was still too full of his own nightmare. He could see the scalpel winking in the light as it cut into Skye’s pale skin, as the blood began to flow…

“Stop!” Skye begged, and Brock took a deep breath, though he still didn’t dare open his eyes.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I don’t know which one of us was nightmaring,” he addressed Andrew.

“I think perhaps you both were. You need to deal with these terrors, both of you. You need to deal with the issue that you have abilities now, abilities triggered by pain, and either you face that or you don’t sleep again.”

“How can we deal with it? How can we?” Skye cried out. “The fact that the fear of losing Brock cripples me isn’t something I’m ever going to be able to change!”

The plane began to tremor. Andrew put a hand out towards her. “All right, Skye. I need you to stop. Just calm down. Take a breath.”

“It isn’t me,” she said blankly as the shaking increased.

“Skye!” Andrew said, alarmed.

“It isn’t her,” Brock insisted. “It’s the plane. We’re taking off.”

Andrew blinked. And then a scowl settled over his handsome features and he leapt to his feet and ran out of the room.

There was no way that Brock and Skye were going to sit quietly in the Cage and wait once they found out that Coulson was facing down Skye’s crazy father and whatever violent lunatics he’d convinced to join him in his quest against SHIELD. Brock insisted that he could use the visor Fitz had made for him - it was uncomfortably tight around his temples and his view was severely constricted, but he’d manage - and Skye swore she’d ICE herself again if she felt her abilities start to break loose of her control.

In the end, May agreed, looking at Brock. He could almost feel her worry for Coulson, guessed that she was thinking she might need backup. And after all, even with his vision restricted, there was no-one better equipped to provide that backup than Brock Rumlow.

“How are we going to get Skye’s father to back down?” Andrew asked practically. “He might listen to Skye - and he might not.”

“He’ll listen if you threaten me,” Skye said steadily. “I saw him in San Juan. He went berserk whenever he thought I might be in danger.”

Brock growled under his breath. She laid a gentle hand on his wrist. “Not like that. I have a plan. He doesn’t know who you are, yet.”

He was very much not okay with the idea of holding a gun to Skye’s head. Even an unloaded one. But she convinced him, eventually, that he could just look big and threatening and she and May would do all the talking. All he had to do was put a hand around her throat and hold the empty gun to her temple, and eventually she talked him into it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock tried very hard not to think that Skye’s father belonged in an asylum. After all, his family hadn’t exactly been anything to brag about, quite the opposite. But he knew the thought distressed Skye. Not as much as having to pretend to threaten her distressed him, though she’d been quite correct in that her father clearly had second thoughts when he saw the gun to her temple.

“Daisy,” Cal said softly. “What have they done to you?”

“We put her on the Index,” May said coldly. “Now we decide. Contain her, or put her down. Your call.” She nodded at Brock, who took a deep breath and cocked the gun in his hand. Skye held very still against him. He could feel her pulse through his fingers on her throat. She was calm, her pulse still thudding along at 70 beats per minute. Of course, she knew that she wasn’t in any danger. Cal knew no such thing.

“I can’t lose you again!” Cal cried, eyes wild. “Don’t you see what they do? You’ve been changed, and it scares the hell out of them. And I think it’s wonderful! I can help!” he’d changed, in a moment, from panicking to manically excited. “Tell me, what’s your thing? I was hoping it was wings.”

Skye’s heartrate was increasing, under Brock’s fingertips, as Cal moved a little closer.

“Stop right there,” Brock growled, departing from the script. “Or she dies.”

Cal stared at him. At the visor over his eyes. Cocked his head slowly, curiously. “You won’t kill her,” he said, a note of discovery in his voice. “Though the truth is, you’re capable of such things.” He held out a hand towards Skye. “Come with me, Daisy.”

“No,” she squeaked out, barely able to speak with Brock’s firm grip on her throat. His fingers loosened instinctively, but fortunately Cal had already turned away.

“You won’t listen. Well - maybe you’ll listen to him.” He threw the microphone to Angar.

The next minute was a blur, as Phil and May leaped into action. Brock instinctively let go of Skye, tossing his useless gun aside and leaping forward to join the fight. He left the others to the unenhanced agents and took on the strongman, who turned out to be not all that strong after all. Turned back, feeling Skye’s distress increase, raced towards her - only to stop in shock as there was a sudden explosion of blue light in the middle of the field.

“What the fuck is that?” he gasped, astonished, as a blue force bubble exploded around Cal and a guy in a trenchcoat was suddenly just there, grabbing the other man. Trenchcoat looked straight at Brock - and Brock saw, with sudden shock, that he had no eyes. Just smooth, unblemished skin from his cheekbones to his brow.

The force bubble vanished with a hissing crackle of energy, and Cal and the man with no eyes were gone.

His shock, his horror, transmitted across to Skye, and combined with her upset over her father’s actions, tipped her over the edge. The ground began to tremor beneath her feet.

“No,” she whispered, clenching her fists. “No!”

Agonising pain exploded from her hands up her arms. The last thing she saw was Brock racing towards her before the world went dark.

“Skye!” Brock screamed as he sprinted towards her, easily outpacing Coulson and May. The pain in her hands and arms was terrible, he could feel it overwhelming her body as she sagged towards the ground, and it poured into him, overloading the heat behind his eyes. He had just enough presence of mind to turn his head towards the last enemy still upright, the tech guy, before the visor over his eyes exploded with the incredible force of the beam that escaped, shards of sapphire and black composite bursting outwards from his face as white light seared the unfortunate computer expert.

May and Coulson froze with shock, staring - and Bobbi, just sprinting up out of the locker rooms after taking down Karla Faye Gideon, took one look, pulled her recently-reclaimed ICER gun and shot Rumlow with every round it still contained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is a downside to the soulmate bond after all. What affects Skye, affects Brock, and that goes for good as well as bad.
> 
>  


	37. Directed Inwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye discovers just what happens when she tries to suppress her powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episodes 13 and 14, and may use portions of dialogue from these episodes._
> 
> _From this chapter onwards, there are Age of Ultron spoilers in the story as well as AoS._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/grillo%203_zpsgcwrgmiz.jpg.html)

“Wake up, baby,” Brock was whispering to Skye as she opened her eyes.

Half expecting to still see the football ground, she blinked groggily as the Playground’s medical centre came into focus.

“What - what happened?” she mumbled. “I feel…”

“You probably feel a little groggy still,” Jemma’s voice came, and the English scientist’s face came into view. Skye blinked at her gentle smile. “We gave you something to help you sleep. And for the pain. It’s probably starting to wear off, though.”

“Pain,” Skye mumbled, still confused. She could feel Brock’s soothing presence in her mind, as well as his arms around her as he helped her sit up. She leaned against his broad chest, looked down at her hands as they began to ache. “What - why do I have these bruises?” Her hands looked almost black, outside the oddly tight sleeve-like things that were covering her forearms.

Andrew was standing behind Jemma, his lips tight. Jemma glanced at him before speaking again. “I ran some tests. The bruising was caused by capillary ruptures in your arms. X-rays showed more than 75 hairline fractures, from your clavicles to your fingertips.”

“You weren’t stopping your powers, Skye,” Andrew said gently. “You were directing them inwards.”

Tears began to slip slowly down Skye’s cheeks, and Brock hugged her more tightly, careful though not to put pressure on her shoulders and her sore collarbones.

“What am I supposed to do?” she whispered starkly.

“We’ll figure it out, baby,” Brock whispered against her neck. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

She turned her head to look at him, wincing as the movement hurt. Gasped as she saw bandages over his eyes again - and healing scabs on his cheeks and forehead. “What happened to _you_?” she wanted to reach up, touch his face, but her arms hurt too much.

Brock smiled tightly. “Turned out the sapphire crystal isn’t as immune to whatever my eyes do as we thought.”

“We’ll find something else,” Jemma insisted. “Fitz has already come up with some more ideas…”

Andrew put a hand on her arm gently. “Simmons. Come on. Let’s leave them alone.”

“What are we going to _do_?” Skye found herself sobbing openly against Brock’s chest once the door closed. He had no answers for her. Could only hold her gently and try and send calming thoughts, try not to let the pain she was feeling overwhelm them both.

Skye let his mind soothe her, taking the edge off her sorrow and fear before either could get out of control. She leaned into him harder and just let herself cry. It was a better outlet for her feelings and kept her from losing control of her power again. The two rocked together for what felt like forever until her tears finally stopped.

“We’ll figure something out, sweetheart,” Brock whispered in her ear. “There has to be some way to control this. Something we can learn, that we can do.”

Nodding, Skye burrowed tighter into his arms. “As long as they don’t try to separate us again, I think we’ll be okay. This is just… it’s easier, when we’re together. Even if we can also make each other worse.”

Brock nodded, acknowledging the truth in her words. “I won’t let them separate us again. We’re stronger together.”

Skye snorted, choking on a burst of near-hysterical laughter. “In more ways than one,” she said when she calmed a little. “But it’s worth it. It has to be.”

“Hey, you know I won’t ever disagree with that,” he answered, squeezing her tighter for a moment. “There has to be an answer. I refuse to believe that this is uncontrollable.”

“I get that AC doesn’t want to tell anyone what’s going on,” Skye said thoughtfully, “but I can’t help but feel like there’s got to be _someone_ capable of helping us figure this out. I just don’t know who it would be.”

Brock hesitated, thinking of the Avengers. But none of them had powers anything like this - except perhaps Banner. And Asgardians didn’t seem particularly fond of those altered by the Kree devices, considering Sif’s reaction. No, approaching the Avengers for help had to be a last resort. He wouldn’t put Skye in range of Thor’s hammer unless he was absolutely sure she would be safe.

Thinking about them made him realise that he hadn’t been in contact with Sam Wilson since the whole mess in San Juan went down. He should tell Trip to contact the Falcon, check in, tell Sam that Brock had been injured and was temporarily out of commission or something. Trip and Sam would get on well, Brock could imagine them now, though Coulson would no doubt want to brief Trip on what he could and couldn’t say.

Skye stayed quiet, sort of following his train of thought - at this distance it was hard to avoid it - but respecting his privacy as much as she could. She’d picked up on the thought of the Avengers and that they were not a good option, at least. And she didn’t disagree. But she still thought that there had to be a better answer.

“Maybe… maybe we can check records from the Sandbox and some of the other old SHIELD facilities?” she suggested after a short silence. “We saw records of them working with Donnie Gill and him learning to control the ice. Sure, some of it was probably HYDRA rather than SHIELD… but maybe it’d be a place to start?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Brock agreed after a moment of thought. “It probably can’t hurt, anyway. It may be best to wait and let us both heal a bit, though. You’re hurt badly enough and you don’t need another incident to make it worse.”

She sighed but nodded, knowing he was right. She did hurt, rather a lot. It wouldn’t be a good idea to experiment while on pain medication or being distracted by how much she hurt. Skye knew she’d begun the training that would allow her to push through the pain of an injury long enough to get a job done, but that didn’t mean it was a good idea to deliberately put herself in that position.

“I suppose we’ll be seeing Andrew again soon,” she said as the thought occurred to her. “We kinda got interrupted before we could deal with the dream thing.”

“I’d imagine you’re right.”

“I guess I’d better try to stay relaxed, then. So I don’t shake things up too much when he starts asking questions again.”

He smiled, lips caressing the side of her neck. “I could help you relax.”

That made Skye laugh, move her sore arms a little. “I’m not sure I’ll be much use.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” A warm hand slid down over her stomach. Eased inside the waistband of her pants, as he pulled her back to lie against his broad chest. “Just close your eyes and relax, baby,” he whispered against her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers were gentle as he caressed her clit, tender and caring, and Skye sighed and gave herself up to his ministrations. Soon she was gasping his name and rotating her hips against his hand, and Brock nibbled gently on her neck as he gave her what she needed, felt her come apart against him and inside him, her pleasure echoing through his mind, relaxing him too as she slumped against him afterwards.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he eased her gently to lie down beside him, slipping his hand from her pants and stroking her stomach soothingly. “That’s it. Rest now. I’m here, you’re quite safe.”

He couldn’t see her smile, but he felt it against his shoulder, felt her contentment as her eyes drifted softly closed. She wouldn’t nightmare this time, he was sure of it. Not unless he did. And he wouldn’t. Because he didn’t plan to sleep, difficult though it was to keep himself awake with his eyes covered. He lay beside her running battle strategies in his head instead, until several hours later he heard the door slide softly open.

“Who’s there?” Brock asked quietly but firmly.

“Fine greeting for your old buddy,” Trip’s cheerful voice said, though seeing Skye asleep, he kept the volume down.

Brock grinned. “I was just thinking about you earlier, man.”

“You thinking about me with that fine woman in your arms?” He heard Trip moving around, guessed the other man had taken a chair. “There’s something _very_ wrong with you.”

That made Brock chuckle. “Not that, you idiot.”

“Well that’s good, ‘cause you’re not my type.” Trip’s voice turned serious. “Coulson’s been filling me in. How are you doing _really_ , Rumlow?”

Brock took a deep breath, very carefully trying to stay as calm as possible. “It’s been… tough. We’ve re-established our soulbond, and it’s closer than ever. Close to the point where I can use Skye’s eyes, if she’ll let me. But that also means that if one of us loses control, often we both do.”

“I can see how that would cause problems,” Trip agreed, his voice low and calmly accepting. “I hear no one’s had much luck in figuring out how to control… well, anything, I guess.”

“No. Fitz and Simmons are working on trying to make me a visor that blocks my power while allowing me to see. As for Skye… it seems like hers are so strongly tied to her emotions that when she gets riled up it’s impossible for her to stop.”

“I heard she did manage to stop it, but at a cost to herself rather than others.”

Brock sighed. “From what they tell me, she channeled her power inwards rather than outwards, which is why she’s in here at the moment.”

Trip frowned. “Yeah, she doesn’t look so great right now.” He brushed a strand of hair away from Skye’s face, knowing that Brock wouldn’t see it there. “But wouldn’t that suggest that her power isn’t actually earthquakes?”

“You know,” Brock said thoughtfully, “you might be onto something. I don’t think anyone had considered that. She shakes the ground, she can shake the plane when we’re on it… but if turning her power inward caused ruptured capillaries and fractured bones, it’s not about shaking the ground at all.”

“Maybe that’s a place to start?” Trip suggested.

“Maybe. We were thinking about looking up some of the records from the Sandbox, see how any of the Gifteds sent there were taught control - if they were.”

“Makes sense.” Brock could hear the smile in Trip’s voice. “Would you like me to start pulling the records up? I can see if anything looks interesting while Skye’s asleep.”

“If you have time, sure,” Brock answered with a small smile and a shrug. “I wanted to ask you for a favor, though.”

“What’s up, man?”

“I need you to get in touch with a friend of mine, Sam Wilson,” Brock explained. “Number’s in my phone. I don’t want you to tell him what’s happening, but I do need to let him know that I’ve been injured and will be out of touch for a while. We’ve been working together on and off for several months. Talk to Coulson first, he’ll fill you in.”

Trip studied Brock’s expression, what he could see of it, then shrugged. “Sure, I think I can handle that. I’ll avoid answering any questions beyond your injury.”

“Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.” Brock offered his hand and felt Trip take it for a moment.

“You want me to let you get some rest?” Trip asked after a few minutes of quiet.

“I’m fine, but I don’t want to wake Skye. Maybe you can stop back later, when she’s awake?”

“Sure. Skye’s always fun to talk to.”

“I won’t disagree, though lately she’s been more than a little on edge. She could probably use a friend right now, though.”

“I hear they’re kinda in short supply,” Trip agreed. “No worries, man. I’ll catch you both later.”

Brock lay back, more eased than he’d expected by Trip’s welcome visit. The other man’s cheerful, positive attitude was near-contagious. Fully intending to stay awake, his exhaustion - and the fact that even his enhanced body needed rest to heal the wounds on his face - caught up with him, and he drifted into a dreamless twilight doze.

He woke when Skye moved against him with a small pained grunt. “Hey, baby,” he murmured softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore as hell,” she muttered unhappily. He could feel her aches, now. Wished like hell he could share his body’s advanced healing with her. The cuts on his face were already gone.

“Okay, we’ll get Jemma to give you something for that.” His stomach rumbled, reminding him it was a long time since he’d eaten and his enhanced metabolism was protesting that fact.

Skye chuckled and tried to nudge his stomach with an elbow, giving up when it made her gasp in pain. “And I daresay we’d better feed the beast, too.”

“Mmm,” he nuzzled at her neck. “So I can be beastly some more.”

That made her chuckle again and sit up slowly, pulling away from his arm. With her eyes open, Brock could see again, and he got to his feet and pressed the call button. Jemma was there in a few moments, her eyes wide and anxious, babbling about how they should both rest some more.

“Skye needs pain relief,” Brock said firmly, “and I need food.”

“Oh. Oh, your metabolism, of course. Yes. Well, Skye, first.” Jemma came to look at Skye’s hands, touching them gently, then running her fingers over Skye’s collarbones. “Hm, the bruising looks very bad.” She looked at Brock and forced a small smile. “If only we could all heal like you do.”

Brock smiled tightly. “If I could share it with Skye, believe me I would.”

“Yes, yes of course.” Jemma nodded, looked back at Skye. “All right, be honest with me, Skye. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is your pain?”

“Three,” Skye said after a moment.

“Six,” Brock corrected dryly. “Don’t, Skye,” when she protested. “It doesn’t help to be in pain when you don’t have to.”

“I don’t want anything that’s going to cloud my mind,” Skye insisted stubbornly. “Nothing too strong.”

Brock and Jemma between them finally talked her into taking some mild painkillers, and then Skye insisted she wanted a shower. Which would have been a problem, with her arms, except that Brock was more than willing to wash her. He perhaps used the excuse of his eyes to fumble the soap rather more than was strictly necessary, making Skye laugh, but then that had been his goal just as much as washing them both clean.

They came out of the bathroom to find that Jemma and Fitz had made what Jemma called ‘a proper British breakfast’ with bacon, eggs, mushrooms, fried tomatoes and thickly cut buttered toast. Brock fell on the food as though he hadn’t eaten in a year, and Skye found herself tucking in hungrily as well.

“Surprised Hunter didn’t demolish this before we got to it,” Brock said finally, sitting back and rubbing his full stomach.

Jemma blinked in surprise. “Didn’t you know? Hunter’s not here. He took off.”

“Wait, what?” Skye looked up, startled. “When did that happen?”

“Not long ago,” Jemma answered quickly. “Sometime in the past day or two.” She sighed. “No one really seems to know why, just that he left. I heard something about commitment issues, but Director Coulson hasn’t actually commented on it.”

Skye frowned, thinking hard. “But… I thought he seemed to be doing really well with the team…” She bit her lip, wondering if this were her fault too. If what had happened to her and Brock in the Kree city was driving people away.

“Hey,” Brock paused and took Skye’s hand, shaking her out of her dark thoughts. “None of that. It’s not _your_ fault if Hunter chose to leave.”

“Certainly not,” Fitz seconded quickly. “Maybe he was just happier being a mercenary. Or maybe he would rather be able to choose missions. Or maybe it’s something else entirely. We just don’t know.”

“He didn’t talk to Bobbi?” Brock frowned. Something just didn’t seem right about the whole thing, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. Yes, Hunter had enjoyed the merc life - Brock had heard enough of his stories to know that - but he’d genuinely seemed to enjoy being here at SHIELD more, had gradually been taking on more responsibility. The former SAS officer was damned smart and had proved himself more than up to the tactical flexibility required of a senior SHIELD field agent.

“They broke up,” Jemma said, “and Bobbi said that might be why he took off.”

“That actually makes sense,” Skye agreed. “I can see how he might not want to stick around. With Bobbi being as dedicated to SHIELD as she is, considering how small the agency is now, it would be impossible for him to avoid her.”

Something was still niggling at Brock, but he shrugged, acknowledging that Skye could be right. Setting it aside, he said only “Well, I hope he comes back. I’ll miss his dumbass sense of humour.”

“Well, in the good news, Trip’s back,” Jemma said brightly, “though he says he’s only here for a few days before he has to take off again.”

Brock frowned at that. With Hunter gone AWOL and him and Skye out of action, Coulson was seriously short of field agents. He’d have thought Coulson would have wanted to keep Trip close. On the other hand - Theta Protocol was very close to completion. Perhaps the Koenigs were in need of manpower even more than Coulson was, and he knew Trip had actually served on the Helicarrier as a pilot in the ship’s quinjet wing. His experience would probably be invaluable in getting the huge airborne facility back into service.

He could feel Skye’s curiosity at the direction of his thoughts - he’d never discussed Theta Protocol with her, as Coulson had commanded complete operational security, and he certainly wasn’t going to talk about it in front of Fitz and Jemma. Taking her hand under the table, he squeezed gently, sending her a thought that they’d talk about it later.

Trip himself came in just then, with a “What’s up, y’all?” stooping to kiss Skye noisily on both cheeks. “Good to see you conscious, girl. I came in to see you before but you were all Sleeping Beauty with your Beast standing guard over you.”

“I think you’re mixing your fairy tales,” Skye laughed up at him.

“Probably, didn’t have no sisters until I got you girls,” he kissed Jemma’s cheeks too, making her laugh as well, before dropping into a chair and stealing Skye’s abandoned bacon rinds. “So I looked up those records from the Sandbox about Gill,” Trip told Brock, “and I ain’t got no good news.”

Brock grimaced. “Hit me with it, then.”

“When Gill got there, his Gifts were minimal. He could make just a little bit of frost, freeze a shot glass full of water. That sort of thing.”

“He froze half a harbour in Morocco!” Jemma said.

“Yeah, and HYDRA put him through some nasty shit to get his abilities that far. Pushed him way beyond his limits. Drugs, torture, sleep deprivation, lovely stuff. Must have been when they brainwashed him too.”

“I see,” Brock murmured. “That kind of training wouldn’t work for me and Skye because our abilities don’t need increasing. We need to learn how to tone them down, not amp them up.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Fitz, who’d been very quiet, perked up. “I’ve got some new lenses for you to try, Rumlow. Ruby quartz crystals. They absorb heat even better than the laboratory grown sapphire.”

“Okay. Can you make the visor a bit less tight this time?” Brock asked. “It was damned uncomfortable.”

“Oh. Oh, I suppose so. You don’t want it to come off, though, and it can’t have any light leakage around the sides - maybe goggles would be better - or some sort of half-hood - that could work, actually, I could make it out of heat-resistant metallic mesh, titanium perhaps…” Fitz started mumbling to himself under his breath.

“What about something with an adjustable strap?” Skye suggested. “Makes it more comfortable but can still be adjusted to be tight enough to stay on properly when on a mission or something?”

“Yeah, maybe, though that really would work best with goggles of some sort,” Fitz answered, startled back to alertness by Skye’s question for a moment before staring off into space again, muttering about heat properties.

“We’ve been looking into a few other things too,” Jemma began, seeming a little more hesitant. “Something vibrationally dampening for you, Skye. Gloves, maybe, since you seem to channel through your hands.” She offered a small smile as she hurried on, “If nothing else, they may help keep you from shaking things if you’re dreaming…”

Skye turned to Jemma in surprise, smiled. “That would be awesome!” She moved her sore, bruised hands awkwardly. “Anything to keep this from happening again.”

Brock agreed, pleasantly surprised too. Jemma had seemed very fearful ever since San Juan, especially once she’d looked into his eyes that one time he’d exploded the light. He could tell that she was trying to move past it, to work on helping him and Skye instead of just being scared.

Jemma smiled happily at their enthusiasm. “Come on, Fitz. Let’s head to the lab. We can start working on designs for Brock’s hood or goggles or whatever it’s going to be, and you can help me with selecting the material for Skye’s gloves.”

Skye smiled as the two scientists left, already muttering science-speak to each other, and returned her attention to Trip. “So, I hear you’ve been doing Coulson’s running around these days? How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” Trip answered with a grin. “Though flying commercial’s not much fun. Been a lot of places, though, and that’s kinda cool.”

Brock laughed. “As long as you don’t mind jet lag!”

Trip smiled at Skye and Brock. “So, should we get you outta here and go put on a movie? I can’t imagine you guys are on active yet…”

With a grin, Skye nodded after a moment’s glance at Brock to be sure he wouldn’t mind watching through her. “That’d be great.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIIPPPP. Everything would have been so different after San Juan if he’d survived, we figured. Jemma would have been a lot less terrified, and Fitz more confident. Skye would have felt more loved, even without Brock.**
> 
> **There was, apparently, a rumour that he might be brought back. That Marvel had been asking the question at a con about who should be brought back and flashed up an image of BJ Britt. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? (sigh). Or maybe he could play his own grandfather in Agent Carter… that would be AWESOME too, we would LOVE to see that!**


	38. We're In This Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Brock go to the Retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episodes 14 and 15, and may use portions of dialogue from these episodes._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/RumSkye%2016_zpshuqvpwqh.jpg.html)

Having Trip around again seemed to brighten the mood of everyone on the base. Even with Hunter’s continued absence, they all laughed a little more, found a few minutes to relax each day. Skye and Brock continued to have sessions with Andrew and neither of them had episodes of being out of control.

It took Skye a few days to realise that Brock wasn’t sleeping. Not properly, anyway. He snatched catnaps every now and then, and his enhancements let him get by on a lot less sleep than anyone else would have managed. Eventually, the lack of sleep caught up with him and he fell asleep on her in the middle of telling her about Theta Protocol.

“God damn it, Brock,” was the first thing she said when he woke up a few hours later, “why didn’t you _tell_ me?” She hadn’t even realised he’d be _capable_ of keeping a secret like this from her, considering how deep their bond was now. Obviously he was able to compartmentalise his mind far better than she could. All those years of training. She let him know how irritated she felt with him, though.

He knew exactly what she was talking about, of course. Sighing, he pushed himself upright and forced a grin. “Don’t be mad, baby. I was protecting us both, from the nightmares. I can soothe you out of yours, as long as I’m awake, but if I’m asleep too I get caught up in a feedback loop with you.”

“This is not only your responsibility!” Skye threw her arms around him with a small, choked sob. “Brock, I _know_. I know how long you’ve had to get by with no one to rely on but yourself. But we’re in this _together_.”

His arms closed around her, and he rocked her gently. “I can’t help it, Skye,” he whispered against her hair. “I just want to protect you. Take care of you, always.”

Anger flared in her mind, but only briefly. She just couldn’t be mad at him when she could feel his near-instinctive need to keep her safe. “I know, love. But you should know that I don’t want you to suffer or be hurt because of me! Soulmates are _partners_ , Brock, _equals_. I might be your priority, but _you_ are _mine_. If we have to sleep in shifts so we can keep each other’s nightmares away, I’m fine with that. Just don’t hide it from me! I can’t help if you won’t let me know you need it.”

Brock sighed and just held her closer. He knew she was right, but it went against his instincts _and_ his training. To rely on her the way she did on him…

And yet, in many ways he already did. He knew their lives were tied together, their happiness and their peace. He wouldn’t want to live without her, but it finally occurred to him that the feeling might be mutual. And while that wouldn’t stop him from sacrificing his life to save hers, perhaps he needed to readjust his thinking up to that point.

She felt the apology in his mind before he could say the words, and she leaned in to kiss him softly in acceptance. As long as he was thinking about it, she could be patient while they worked out the balance point in their relationship. Being soulmates and bonding didn’t guarantee an instant happy ever after like in the movies, she found herself thinking. Their relationship was going to take work, just like any other.

“Do you need to sleep more now?” she asked quietly after a few more moments of snuggling.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “Three, four hours out of every twenty-four is more than enough for me. I can function on less if I have to.”

“Hmph,” she snorted in disgust, and he chuckled.

“I know, I know, cheaty HYDRA enhancements. As I’ve said before, if I could share them with you, I would.” He took her hands gently in his, examined them. The worst of the bruising was faded, and he knew the pain from the micro-fractures had died down to a dull ache she was able to keep at bay with only mild painkillers. She still wore the compression casts, but Jemma had let them know that she’d have Skye’s gloves ready any day now, and Fitz had stopped by just a little while ago with Brock’s new lenses.

A knock on the door made them both look up. It was Phil, who neither of them had seen for several days.

“AC!” Skye sat up straight, smiling happily.

Phil found a smile for her, though Brock, looking through Skye’s eyes, thought privately that he looked worried and exhausted.

“Director,” Brock greeted quietly.

Phil took a seat, nodded at them both. “How are you both feeling?” he asked.

“Good,” Skye answered for both of them. “My hands are feeling a lot better, and I haven’t had an episode in nearly a week!”

“That’s great.” Phil nodded, but he seemed abstracted.

“Just drop the other shoe, Director,” Brock advised. “You’re only making me feel edgy with the _I-don’t-want-to-do-this_ vibes you’re giving off.”

“Heh,” Phil gave a short, unamused chuckle. “Even with your eyes damaged, you’re one of the most perceptive people I know, Rumlow. Are you sure you didn’t get sixth sense as well as laser beam eyes?”

“Too soon for that joke,” Brock said dryly.

“Um, yes, I daresay it is. Okay, I’ll come straight to the point. Dr. Garner has given me his recommendations - and I concur with them. You are both officially Inactive until further notice.”

Unsurprised, Brock nodded. “Of course we are.” He’d known it was coming, known that there could be no other choice until they could both demonstrate themselves capable of actively controlling their new abilities, not just suppressing them. He’d tried to prepare Skye, but he could still feel her disappointment.

“And Dr. Garner also thinks that you should have some time away from SHIELD. Obviously I can’t just give you two tickets to Hawaii, though I wish I could. I do have an alternate in mind, though. You’ll want to pack a bag each.”

“Bikinis and sundresses?” Skye said hopefully.

Phil was surprised into a genuine laugh. “I’m afraid not. Something a little warmer.”

“Damn, I was looking forward to the view,” Brock remarked, laughing and wriggling away from the sharp finger Skye poked into his ribs for the comment. “Ok, Coulson. When are we leaving?”

“Couple of hours. Trip’s gonna fly us.”

Brock nodded and Skye settled quickly. “Why am I suddenly feeling like Old Yeller?” Skye asked after a moment. Brock blinked and Coulson actually cracked a small smile at that.

“Didn’t think you’d actually have read something like that,” Coulson said, avoiding the question.

“Well, you know how nuns can be with literature,” she quipped back.

“It won’t be that bad, Skye,” Brock assured her. “At least we’ll still be together, yeah?” he said soothingly. Though the lenses made it hard to read his eyes, his expression and demeanor almost dared Coulson to try to separate them. Fortunately, no one had been stupid enough to even suggest that.

“Yeah. Okay,” Skye agreed quietly.

“See you in a couple of hours, then,” Coulson said as he left them alone.

Skye sighed, then pulled herself up to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go get packed. Your stuff first or mine?”

“Mine. You can take your time with choices for your things that way.”

Skye nodded. They still had separate rooms, though they never slept apart. They stayed in whichever place was more convenient at the time, but most of their things were still separate. So she watched quietly as Brock retrieved his duffel bag, quickly and efficiently packing several changes of clothes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye and Coulson sat alone in the back of the quinjet. Brock was up front with Trip; he’d told them, quite truthfully, that he wanted to see if he could still operate a jet with the new lenses on. But he also got the feeling that Coulson and Skye needed to talk. He could be there in a heartbeat if Skye needed him, and knowing that made it easier to leave them alone.

“I’m sorry about everything that’s happening, Skye,” Coulson said quietly.

“It’s not your fault,” Skye answered. “The blame begins and ends with my father.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first person in the world to have parents with misguided intentions.”

“Nope, just the first whose crazy dad lured her to an alien city to get earthquake powers,” she replied flippantly.

Coulson couldn’t help but smile at her quip. “Yeah. I got us a little something for the trip,” he offered her a Twizzler and she took it with a small smile. The each took a bite at just about the same time and chewed quietly for a moment.

“Thing I remember most about my dad is he was a car guy,” Coulson said, his voice even but with a slightly reminiscing tone. Skye listened quietly, watching his expressions. “ Always working on this junker he insisted I help him fix. While my friends were outside, playing ball, having fun, there I was, stuck at home with him, fixing that damn car. Wasn't till we finished that it hit me. That car was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And all the time we'd spent together working on it gave me an appreciation I never would have had otherwise.”

She couldn’t help but smile, but then she paused. “Hold on. Was that car a red 1962 Corvette?” she asked with a smirk, her eyes bright and amused.

Coulson smiled fondly, an expression she’d seldom seen from him. “Yeah.” But his eyes were focused on her, not on his memory of the car.

“Well, he'd be very proud,” she told him. “Your red Corvette flies. How cool is that?”

“It's pretty cool,” he agreed, looking away for a moment. “But I think the thing he'd like most about it ... at her core, she's still just a red '62 Corvette.”

Skye’s expression turned thoughtful, then she asked hesitantly, “Just to be clear, I-I'm the Corvette in this story. Right?” Coulson smiled at her, and for her that was answer enough. It made her feel special, and Brock’s silent reminder that she _was_ special only prolonged the warm, fuzzy feeling. “Now, you want to tell me where we're going?” she asked, changing the subject after a moment of quiet.

“We're almost there,” Coulson said rather than answering her question.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, nice,” was Brock’s first remark on seeing the Retreat. “Lovely. Shame it’s not hunting season.”

“Of course _he’d_ like this kind of wilderness,” Skye muttered under her breath to Trip. “What am I going to do here? I’m a city kid!”

“If you really need me to tell you ways that the two of you can pass the time, your soulmate ain’t the man I think he is, girl,” Trip wiggled his eyebrows salaciously at her, and Skye snorted. “Go on inside now with Coulson. Right engine was making a funny noise, I wanna check the bird over.” He dished out a quick hug before turning back to the quinjet, and Skye sighed and followed Brock and Phil inside.

“It’s a safe house for people with powers,” Phil was saying. “Rogers even spent a few weeks here, after he defrosted.”

“Okay, but who’s it supposed to keep safe?” Skye asked wryly. “The people with powers, or everyone else?”

Phil turned to look at her. “Both.”

“Huh,” she muttered, looking around. It was pretty luxurious, actually. More so than she’d expected from the outside. There was a comfortable-looking couch, a desk with an up-to-date computer and a nice ergonomic office chair. A decently equipped kitchen. Steps led up to what she guessed was the bedroom, under the eaves. “I guess there are worse prisons. Didn’t think we’d be locked up like werewolves under full moon.”

Brock put a hand on her shoulder. “Skye, it’s not like that. Think of this as a holiday. We can go fishing.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Well, if you do go outside, be careful,” Phil warned. “There’s a laser fence around the perimeter.”

“Of course there is.”

Phil glanced at Brock, gave him a _help-me_ look. Brock shrugged. Skye had a right to feel the way she did; she had quite understandable abandonment issues, and right now it felt as though even Phil was abandoning her. Phil, who she thought of as the father of her heart.

Phil sighed, did his best to change the subject by giving Skye the gauntlets Jemma and Fitz had made for her. Brock didn’t much like the sound of the possible side effects, though. They’d have to talk that through with Simmons on the video link before he let Skye try them on. He snapped out of thinking about that as he felt Skye’s emotions change; felt her getting upset as Coulson was obviously preparing to depart.

“I just need you to be my friend right now,” she was saying to Phil, tears in her voice. “What would you do if you were me?”

“I don’t know,” Phil said gently. “These are uncharted waters, but if anyone can find a way through them, it’s you.”

“‘Cause I’m the red Corvette, right?” Skye said, and Brock frowned. He didn’t get the reference. Something about Lola?

“Because you’re one of the few people I know I can trust,” Phil said sincerely. He looked at Brock. “Both of you.”

That meant a lot to Brock, considering his past. Putting his arm around Skye, he drew her back against him gently. “We’ll figure it out, Coulson. Thank you, for your faith in us.”

Phil nodded, looking at them, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Take care of each other,” he said quietly. “Keep in touch. I’ll send May by every few days to check on you.”

Skye held out until they heard the quinjet take off. And then she turned around, laid her cheek against Brock’s chest, and cried her eyes out.

“Hush, baby,” he stroked her hair tenderly, doing his best to soothe her, trying to calm her feelings of abandonment. “I’m here. You’re not alone. We’re gonna fix this and be back better than ever. You’ll see.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock actually found himself rather enjoying having nothing to do, nowhere to be, no-one to hunt down. He could tell Skye felt restless, though, and set himself to keeping her entertained, in bed and out of it, and by that evening she was relaxing a little, enough that the bond between them was calm and restful. Brock felt able to take off his new visor and look around with his own eyes. The instincts of years had him looking the cabin over for security - at which point he discovered that it was rather more secure than it looked from the outside.

“Huh,” he mumbled, looking at the front door, and the high-grade electronic security system. It would take more than a few blows from a battering ram to smash that door in. The few small windows were rocket-proof glass, and the walls were rather thicker than he’d originally thought. But then, if Fury had used it as a private retreat - God only knew the man was paranoid. With good reason.

Coming back inside, Brock found Skye in the kitchen, checking in the cupboards. She turned to him grinning, holding up a package. “Look, Little Debbie snack cakes!”

“You junk food junkie,” he said with a grin, “you’ll spoil your dinner…” but she was already ripping into the package, stuffing a cake into her mouth and grinning at him around it. “Hopeless woman,” he laughed quietly.

The computer chirped then and Skye turned towards it, hurrying over. “It’s Jemma!” she said with an excited smile, sitting down.

“You saw her a few hours ago!” Brock shook his head, and went to look in the fridge. Hopefully someone had stocked it with something other than junk food - ah yes, vegetables, and there were packages of diced beef and chicken in the freezer. He pulled out a package of beef, found some stock cubes in a cupboard. A casserole would do nicely. He could put it on to a low simmer. He started to chop an onion, listening with half an ear to Skye and Jemma talking in the background.

“She wants me to try on the gloves she made,” Skye said after a few minutes, coming over. She leaned on the counter, watching the flashing speed of the knife as Brock diced carrots. “Says they may help me heal.”

“I’m all for that, baby, as I’m sure you well know,” he replied, reaching for green beans to add to the mix.

“Yeah. I just... Coulson said there are side effects, you know, and Simmons wasn’t sure how they might affect me.” Skye reached for another Little Debbie cake and Brock nudged her hand away - gently, mindful of the dark bruises still showing on her arms, before picking up the cakes and putting them in a high cupboard.

“You!” Skye said indignantly. He leaned down to give her a kiss.

“After dinner,” he murmured against her lips, “I’ll let you have one. If you eat all your dinner like a good girl.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “Don’t you like me when I’m a bad girl, then?” One slender hand danced across his hip, to the fly of his pants, and she dropped to her knees with a grin. “I thought you liked it when I’m bad for you.”

Brock grinned, and then groaned as she unzipped and leaned in, rubbing her cheek against his groin like a cat.

“Keep on cooking, I want my dinner,” Skye said mischievously.

“Don’t - think I should - be using a sharp knife when you’re doing - _that_ oh, _fuck_ ,” Brock had to lean both hands on the counter as she started licking his rapidly hardening dick like an ice cream.

“Come on, I thought you super-spies were trained to pay attention to exacting tasks through intense distractions and pain?” Skye pulled back, looked up at him, her hand working him all the while.

“Yeah, pain and suffering, not the delights of my soulmate sucking my dick!” Brock groaned as Skye’s tongue swirled around his tip; she knew exactly how to drive him insane, and he could feel the laughing mischief in her thoughts. With a groan he reached down and tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her off and dragging her - gently - to her feet.

“Go get on the bed. I’ll be just a couple of minutes.”

She could taste his anticipation, feel his arousal increasing. Stepping back and pulling away from his grasp, Skye smirked up at him.

“You better hurry up.” Walking out of the kitchen area, she pulled her shirt off and tossed it casually on the couch. Leaving a trail of discarded clothes behind her, she headed for the stairs, glancing over her shoulder as she got there, chuckling at the sight of Brock transfixed in the kitchen. “I’ll start without you,” she warned sweetly before trotting naked up the stairs.

“Fucking hell,” Brock’s hands were shaking as he tucked himself back into his pants, washed his hands and hastily resumed chopping the vegetables. “Oh, God, baby, you’re so mean!” he yelled a minute later. Because she had indeed started without him. He could feel her rising pleasure. “I’m gonna spank your bottom for this!”

Skye moaned loudly. “Promises, promises!” she called.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **And yes… this is a smuthanger. Because ozhawk was jumping up and down shouting I NEED ANOTHER SMUTHANGER! MY FANS EXPECT IT!**
> 
>  


	39. They're Death Eaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil sends Trip on a special mission. Hunter and Phil figure out the truth about Real SHIELD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episodes 14 and 15, and may use portions of dialogue from these episodes._
> 
> _This chapter will focus on events occurring elsewhere to The Retreat, and how those scenes have been changed owing to Rumlow’s presence in the story._
> 
> _What’s that? Oh, the smuthanger? Next chapter, dears, next chapter..._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/trip%202_zpsld9of9vj.jpg.html) [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/hunter%20bare%20chest%204_zpswhhupiip.jpg.html)

_There's no Rumlow in this chapter, so here, have some hotsexy Trip and Hunter instead..._

“Who the hell are you working for, Mack?” Hunter was right on the edge of panic. Not HYDRA. It _couldn’t_ be HYDRA. _Not Mack, not Bobbi, oh dear God no…_

Mack was looking down at him with an expression he couldn’t define, almost - _pity_? “SHIELD,” the big mechanic said, his deep voice a low rumble. “The _real_ SHIELD.”

Hunter’s jaw dropped. Never one to be lost for words, though, he soon found his voice again as Mack led him through the corridors of what seemed to be a fairly expansive base. Hunter’s eyes flitted everywhere, taking everything in. There was a definite lack of _Exit This Way In Case Of Emergency_ signs. Coulson would have a fit.

“So where now?” he demanded. “Off to see the wizard?”

“Something like that,” Mack said, and there was only weariness in his tone.

“Priceless. I guess one boss wasn’t enough for you and Bobbi,” Hunter sniped as he looked around the conference room. _Three fucking cooks in the kitchen. No, damn it, four_ , as an older man walking with the aid of a cane came in to join them. Hunter shook his head. _Well, this was gonna be one hell of a crappy broth_.

It wasn’t long before the older guy - _and introductions would have been nice, Mack, thanks so much_ \- had shown his hand.

“So that’s what this is about,” Hunter said, enlightened. “You guys don’t want Coulson in charge.” He shook his head. “I’ll be the first to admit the guy’s not perfect. Sometimes chews with his mouth open, tends to hog the mike on karaoke nights.” Although that was a good thing, as Mack well knew, because Coulson could actually sing. Unlike May, for example. Who just _thought_ she could. And Skye had a sweet voice when coaxed into it, though now he was just distracting himself.

“But other than that, he’s not so bad, really.” _Who the hell could dislike Coulson?_ Hunter didn’t get it. Really. He _really_ didn’t get it. God knew he’d had his own issues with authority figures in the past, but Coulson was a good guy. A genuinely good guy.

“Well, I’m afraid we don’t share that opinion,” the old geezer replied, and Hunter felt like getting up and feeding him his teeth. Did this bastard even _know_ Coulson?

“This is rubbish,” he snapped, glaring at Mack. “Maybe you’ve drunk the conspiracy Kool-Aid, but there’s not a chance in hell Bobbi would ever bow down to any of this…”

Of course, that was the moment at which his ex-wife entered and took her seat at the table. Stared him down silently.

Hunter was _not_ going to drop his gaze. Not for one fucking second. “Perhaps we could have discussed this _alone_?” he suggested coldly. _He’d certainly given her the fucking opportunity. More than once_. “ _Without_ all of Hufflepuff looking on?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Mack’s lips twitch. Bobbi, though, just sighed.

“Hunter, please.”

It was a huge effort to rein in his temper. But Hunter took a slow breath. Sarcastically invited Old Geezer to indoctrinate. And then nearly went across the table to wring his ancient neck when he started talking about Isabelle Hartley.

Except… Hunter had been there when Izzy died. Had cut off her damned hand to try to save his friend’s life. Had looked in her dead eyes, grieved at her graveside. And… possibly it was true that if Coulson had shared a little bit more information about the Obelisk, Izzy might indeed be alive today. But had Coulson actually _known_ more?

They were watching him as he silently processed their accusation. He said nothing though, and after a moment Old Geezer continued on. “And then we come to the trust Coulson has placed in Agent Rumlow. A _known_ former high-ranking HYDRA agent.”

“ _Just_ a fucking minute,” Hunter said indignantly, “Rumlow has never made any secret of the fact that he used to be HYDRA. That he realised his mistakes and did his best to atone. He went to Director Fury and told him about HYDRA - it was Rumlow’s information that led to Captain America and his allies, _including Rumlow himself,_  being able to take down the Insight carriers before they could be used! It was his information, unless I’m very much mistaken, _Agent Morse_ ,” he deliberately emphasised the formal address, “that kept _you_ alive when you were undercover inside HYDRA. So no. You don’t get to use Rumlow against Coulson. That’s bullshit. Rumlow’s loyalties aren’t in question. Unlike _other people_.”

That crack actually made both Bobbi and Mack look down at the table. Old Geezer, though, continued his condemnation of Coulson’s actions, and Hunter realised they’d already made their judgement. This wasn’t a court, and there wasn’t going to be any trial, much less a fair one. He wasn’t there to be a character witness for Coulson. Hunter was there to keep him out of the way. And perhaps, because Bobbi hoped to sway him to her way of thinking.

Well, they could all just _fuck right off._

Lance Hunter had chosen his side. And he wasn’t going to flip for anyone. Most especially not for his lying hellbeast of an ex-wife and her gigantic minion who’d choked him out, tied him up in the boot of a car and then chained him to a fucking sink, and their precious Four Executives of the Apocalypse.

They weren’t Hufflepuff, he realised, looking around. They weren’t even fucking _Slytherin_. They were Death Eaters, the lying, cheating, traitorous _bastards_. And Lance Hunter was a Gryffindor through and through.

He was outta here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So what’s next, boss?” Trip asked cheerfully as he and Coulson sat together in the quinjet. Coulson had elected to ride the co-pilot’s seat, keep him company. “I guess you need me back at base, huh? We’re very short-handed now with Rum and Skye on the sick list, and Hunter quitting.”

Coulson frowned, said nothing for a moment. Trip turned his head to look at him, wishing the older man was easier to read. “Boss?”

“I’m concerned about Hunter,” Phil confessed. “Something’s not right and I can’t quite put my finger on what.” He hesitated a moment. “Did you ever come across Mack, before SHIELD fell?”

“No,” Trip shook his head. “Why?”

“Two things. We only have Mack’s word for it, right now, that Hunter took off. And secondly - did you see that remote control copy of Lola he made for me?”

“Yeah, man, that thing’s cute,” Trip nodded with a grin.

“There’s something not right about it. An extra component. I’m going to give it to Fitz, see what it does.”

Trip added two and two and got four. “Aw, _man_. Shit. You think he’s HYDRA?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. But I’ll find out. I’m going to talk to Bobbi, see if she’s spoken to Hunter. And I want you to…”

“Confront Mack with you? He’s an intimidating guy…”

“I’ve got that covered, Trip. No. I want you to put out some feelers on some other channels. Hunter and I have talked quite a lot about emergency contact protocols. He may well get in touch through one of those if there’s something he wants to tell me privately.”

“Can do,” Trip agreed.

“I want you to leave the Playground, straight away. Go check in with our outliers. Look in at theBrand Company Labs. And then I want you with the Koenigs at the Theta Protocol base. They’re desperately short of experienced Helicarrier crew.”

“Sir, I was a junior pilot in the ship’s quinjet wing for six months, before I got accepted into the Specialist training program!” Trip protested.

“And you and Cameron Klein are _still_ the most experienced Helicarrier crew SHIELD has left!” Phil wasn’t accepting any excuses. “We need you there, Trip. Training new crew. We’ll manage without you.”

“Yes, sir,” Trip finally conceded.

There was silence between them for a moment, and then Trip sighed. “This would be so much easier if Mack and Hunter had their own version of a Skye, y’know. Like you _know_ you can trust Rumlow because Skye would know in a hot second if he was even considering goin’ back to his old ways.”

Coulson’s expression relaxed into a small smile, thinking of Skye. “Yeah. That does help, doesn’t it? Especially since Skye’s loyalties are so obvious.”

“They are. But you know that Skye’s only adamantly SHIELD because the rest of us are,” Trip pointed out. “You, May, Fitz and Simmons…”

“No, it’s more than that.” Coulson shook his head. “Ever since she found out that SHIELD moved her around as a child to keep her safe, she’s seen SHIELD as her extended family. And if there’s one thing we all know about Skye it’s that once she has given her loyalty to someone or something, there’s very little that can shake it.”

“Yeah. She’s kinda ferocious that way,” Trip said with a grin. “It’s why we all love her so much,” he added in a softer tone. “She’s adopted us all as family and defends that with everything she is. It’s hard not to return that kind of feeling, even for some of the harder edged specialists.” He deliberately didn’t say names, but they both knew that May cared about Skye as much as anyone else did. “Once she gets her powers under control, I think this will all blow over. Fitz wasn’t wrong in how he felt, just the way he went about it.”

“I know. I haven’t been too hard on him; some of the others still are, though.” Coulson glanced over at Trip with a small smile. “I’m glad that you and Fitz have been there for Rumlow and Skye. I can’t imagine how bad things could’ve gotten if the entire team turned against them at once.”

“They’d have left,” Trip answered quietly. “Reluctantly, perhaps, but Rum wouldn’t let Skye stay somewhere so hostile. He’s too protective for that.”

Coulson nodded his agreement. “I know. I don’t really blame them, either. It’s just better for them to have some time to get a handle on their powers, and for the rest of us to sort out this mess while they’re somewhere safe.”

“And at least they’re together. If we’d had to send Skye out there by herself I think she’d have been hurt, no matter how good our intentions.”

“It would’ve felt like her short-term foster homes,” Coulson agreed in a low voice. “Hopefully Rumlow can help curb some of that.”

“You know he will,” Trip said, his cheer returning. “As much as he can. Rumlow understands, and he’ll help Skye understand.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving back at base, Coulson got an urgent phone call from General Talbot and hurried off to his office. Trip packed up his gear quickly and efficiently and took one of the cars from the garage. He popped his head into the lab to say goodbye to Fitz and Simmons before he left.

“Oh,” Jemma came over to give him a hug, “how long will you be gone, Trip?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, aware that if he ended up permanently assigned to the Helicarrier once it relaunched, he might never be able to return to this team. But then perhaps Coulson intended to make the Helicarrier his headquarters and they’d all end up there. The Director wasn’t exactly a guy to share his strategic plans ahead of time. That was okay with Trip, though. He trusted Coulson to make the right decision.

Tossing his gear into the back of the SUV he’d selected, he left the Playground and headed for his first stop in Nashville.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phil had never thought he’d be walking into his own office with his hands zip-tied in front of him, at the point of guns held by SHIELD tactical agents. Although there was definitely something not right about the SHIELD patches on their uniforms. He had to wonder what the added stars signified.

The man waiting in his office turned to face him, and Phil’s eyes widened with surprise - because he recognised him. They’d never met face to face, but he was well aware of who Robert Gonzales was. He and Rumlow had searched frantically for any trace of him after the fall of SHIELD. He told Gonzales that. Told him how much he’d wanted him on his team. Watched the other man’s face to try and determine whether or not Gonzales reciprocated the feeling.

And all he got were accusations that he had no way of defending himself against. He hadn’t asked to be injected with alien blood and brought back from the dead! Having said that, of course, it was nice to be alive. And quite nice to think that Fury believed him to be an Avenger, too.

“Weaver thinks it made you into some kind of messenger for an alien race,” Gonzales was saying, his tone oh so reasonable. “Can you say with certainty that that’s not true?”

Phil really couldn’t. Because it really wasn’t all that long since the carving had stopped. And he had no idea why it had started in the first place. Why the dead Kree had wanted so urgently to pass on the message about the city. Nor could he say with certainty that another message would never come.

“And I have to say that I am deeply, deeply concerned about the level of trust you have apparently placed in Agent Rumlow,” Gonzales said. “Agent Morse has informed me that Agent Rumlow is part of your ‘inner circle’, and is effectively your third in command.”

“Yes,” Phil said, somewhat confused, “he is. Along with Agent May, he’s the most experienced agent SHIELD had remaining. That I had remaining, anyway. Agent Rumlow is one of the best field agents it’s ever been my privilege to work with.”

“He’s a self-confessed _double traitor_! He was a mole within SHIELD for HYDRA for years, who knows how much damage he did there - and then he sold out HYDRA too! And now he’s become enhanced as well, he’s even more dangerous.”

“You don’t know him,” Phil shook his head, half-smiling.

“I _do_ know him, actually. I saw how dangerous he was - and how ruthless - when he and his STRIKE team were staged off my ship. I saw him torture a captive for information...”

“Under whose orders? I’m willing to bet he was following orders. And if he was on your ship, they were _your_ orders, Robert, or orders you _could have_ countermanded. So that won’t wash. I’ve used him to get information out of a prisoner as well. Information that saved lives. And I would - I _will_ \- do it again, despite the fact that I know Rumlow despises it. Because he’s damned good at his job, and _because_ he takes no pleasure in it, unlike others I’ve seen.”

That silenced Gonzales, momentarily, and Phil continued. “As a matter of fact, I believe you owe Rumlow your life. He gave Fury HYDRA’s master elimination list, and your name was on it. There were big rewards for any HYDRA agent who killed anyone on that list. Rumlow gave Fury your name in time for him to send help out to you - STRIKE Team Gamma, unless I very much miss my guess - and that help is why the _Iliad_ is not now in HYDRA’s hands. And why _you_ didn’t go down to Davy Jones’ locker with a bullet in your brain. You owe Agent Rumlow your thanks, Robert. Not your condemnation.”

Gonzales rallied after a moment of stunned silence. “Perhaps you’re correct in that, Coulson. And you owed him better than he and Agent Skye got, dragged to Puerto Rico in your quest to decipher the alien message and hideously changed when things got out of control.”

“I took my team to Puerto Rico to destroy the alien city and stop Dr. Whitehall, and that’s what we did,” Phil replied sharply.

“In part, that’s true,” Gonzales conceded, but his eyes were still condemnatory. And then he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out Fury’s toolbox. “And that’s why I want to give you a chance to be the good man I know you once were.”

_You lying, manipulative, power-hungry asshole._

Phil was too good an agent to let his emotions show on his face. Instead, he kept talking. Letting Gonzales dig himself a deeper hole. Because for all his words about how SHIELD was now run by a committee - _and what the actual fuck?_ \- it was only Gonzales standing there, right now, the Toolbox in his hand, asking Phil to open it.

“If you wanted to talk to me, Agent Gonzales, you should have talked to me,” Phil said, trying not to let his rage show in his voice, but it was hard. Very hard, when he’d been escorted past the labs and seen Fitz, barely conscious, being revived by a medical tech. Had seen Simmons collapse as the gas overwhelmed her, before his own world went dark.

“You put spies on my team,” he accused. “Invaded my base. Hurt my people.” And Phil knew, only too well, that they would be going after Rumlow and Skye. Thank God he’d sent Trip away, and that he’d made the decision to keep Theta Protocol a tightly held secret. Not even May knew about it. And without Trip, they wouldn’t be able to find out quickly where he’d taken Skye and Brock. Because Phil wasn’t going to talk.

He was extremely relieved to see May. She shoved a briefcase into his hand and sent him into the hidden elevator, promising to stay and look after Fitz and Simmons, and any other agents who might still be loyal to him.

“They know about Rumlow and Skye, Phil,” May’s eyes bored into him. “Find them. You have to get to them.” And then she hit the button to send the elevator plummeting downwards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Phil did, once he was a safe distance away, was find a payphone - he eventually found a working one at a gas station - and try to call Skye’s phone. It rang out, though, and he had the horrible feeling he was too late, though he had no idea how Gonzales’ people could have found them so quickly. He tried Rumlow’s phone and got the same result. Rubbing his forehead, Phil concluded that he was going to have to let the pair of them fend for themselves, for now. He called Trip instead, briefing him quickly on what had happened. There was only shocked silence at the other end of the line.

“Bin your phone as soon as this call is finished and do not attempt to contact anyone at the Playground,” Phil ordered succinctly. “Put out those feelers to Hunter as soon as possible.”

“But, Director…”

“At the moment the only thing I’m Director of is myself,” Phil cut him off. “I need you to do this, Agent Triplett. I need Theta Protocol up and running as soon as possible now, as I’m sure you can see, and I want to make sure that the Brand Company Labs are at the point they claim they are with our project. Just in case.”

“Yes, sir,” Trip said finally.

“I’ll get in touch with you again once you’re with the Koenigs,” Phil said before hanging up. He punched in another number, waited for the pick up. “Billy? We’ve got a problem.”

Billy and Sam immediately urged him to come in, to come to the Theta base. Phil declined.

“If they somehow put a tracker on me, I’ll lead them right to you,” he pointed out, “and close as we are, she _isn’t_ ready to fly yet. Agent Triplett is on his way to you, he’ll help you expedite. I’ve got other things to do. People to see, places to be. You know how it is.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So all of SHIELD are on the move… back to see what Brock and Skye are up to next! (Also, the extended smuthanger was also totally Oz’s idea. I can throw her under the bus for that one, like she did with me regarding San Juan ;) )**


	40. Enjoying The View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock gets his revenge on Skye for her teasing, and they learn a few surprising things about the Retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episode 15, and may use portions of dialogue from this episode._
> 
> _There is some mild Dom/sub kink in this chapter. Spanking. Yes, really. You’ll see ;)_

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/RumSkye17_zpsc6b8xi6s.jpg.html)

Brock finished cutting up ingredients in double-quick time, threw everything into the pot and left it on a low simmer, hastily washed his hands and bolted for the stairs. Arriving at the top, he had to duck under a low beam - he’d bet Cap brained himself on that at _least_ once, if it was true he’d stayed here - and then stood staring at the bed.

He’d been well aware that Skye hadn’t waited for him. It was a low purr of arousal in the back of his mind, impossible to ignore, and it had made it _very_ difficult for him to run up the stairs. But somehow he hadn’t expected to see her laid out nude upon the bed like his every wet dream, knees parted and bent, feet braced on the mattress, one hand plucking languidly at her nipple while the fingers of the others played in her pussy, a shiny slick of arousal testament to the fact that she was very much enjoying herself.

She knew he was there, of course. Soft lips curved in a smile, though she didn’t open her eyes. “Enjoying the view?”

“Very much,” he rumbled, folding his arms and looking down at her, standing at the end of the bed. “Carry on.”

Skye’s eyes flew open and she pouted. “What?”

Brock grinned. “Oh, did you want some help, sweetheart?” He stayed right where he was, looming over her. “I’m not sure I should help you. You were very naughty, after all. And look at you now, you bad girl.”

Skye lowered her lashes, looked up at him through them. “Maybe you should punish me then,” she said, her tone sultry, and though he could feel her anticipation Brock could tell she was also nervous. Sitting down on the bed beside her, he reached for her, pulled her into his arms.

“Have you ever been spanked before?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “No. But I - I think I might like it, if you did it.” She peeked up at him again through those long lashes, and Brock was reminded once again of how very young she was.

“It’s not done to hurt you,” he said gently. “You understand that, right?”

Skye nodded against his chest. “Sure. I get the point.” Her hand was sliding up under his T-shirt, tracing his rock-hard abdominal muscles. “I know you like to be dominant sometimes,” she whispered, “and sometimes - I like to submit. I like it when you take charge, when you control me. Just sometimes.”

His arms tightened briefly around her and he groaned softly. “It doesn’t have to happen all the time, sweetheart. I like seeing you all fierce and feisty, too. Remember that time in your office?” He felt, more than heard, her chuckle and she nodded. “Alright, we’ll keep this simple for now. I know we have the soul bond, so the chances that I could hurt you unknowing are next to zero. But you also know how overwhelming the bond can get. So, I still want a way for you to stop everything if it’s too much.” Skye nodded, listening carefully. “The color system is easy; green is everything’s good, yellow is slow down and red is stop.”

“That’s gotta be almost second nature, for anyone American at least,” Skye commented lightly.

Brock nodded. “Yeah. That’s why I like it. So if I stop and ask you for a color, or if you tell me a color, we’ll know how to respond. And they’re words you’re unlikely to be using otherwise.”

Skye considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. If we need them, we have them.” She peeked up at him again, eyes veiled by her lashes. Unable to resist, he bent down and captured her lips in a deep kiss. “Green,” she whispered against his mouth when they parted for air, and he laughed. In a quick move he had her laid out over his lap; her breasts pushed into the blanket beside his thigh and her legs sprawled across the bed on his other side.

“Such a naughty girl, sweetheart,” he said quietly. His hand stroked over her bottom as he settled her, then he struck lightly. Skye jumped, though his hand on her back kept her from moving far, and she moaned in a low tone. He stroked her reddened skin for a moment until she began to relax, then he slapped the other cheek. Between his control and his access to her responses he kept himself to blows that stung more than hurt and after a few more well-placed slaps he let her up. “So, what did we learn?” he asked, his tone serious but inwardly pleased with her obvious enjoyment.

“That if I played with my clit while you did that, I could probably come without anything else,” she answered cheekily, mischief not yet subdued. She felt his surge of lust at her comment, but outwardly he only raised an eyebrow.

“Not done being a brat, little girl?” Skye shivered, both from the chill in his tone and the flood of arousal that echoed back and forth between them. She didn’t fight him when he quickly moved her onto her knees, facing the headboard. She turned her head and watched him take off his belt, then he moved her hands onto the top rail of the headboard and bound them there with the heavy leather, careful not to pull too tightly on her bruised arms. That done, he paused. “Color?” he asked quietly, just to be sure.

“Green,” she answered promptly. She trusted him, more than she’d ever trusted anyone or anything. And while she knew that he knew it, it made her feel warm inside to know that he’d check just to be sure.

“That’s good.” His big hand stroked gently over her reddened bottom. “You have the most beautiful ass, baby. All of you is beautiful, but this ass…” another light swat made Skye shudder. Her knees slid apart, and his hand glided forward over her hip and then back between her thighs.

“You’re dripping,” Brock leaned down over Skye, whispered in her ear. “Enjoying this, aren’t you, naughty girl?” He didn’t need a verbal response, and all he got was a moan anyway as his fingers slid over her clit, pinching lightly. Skye’s head dropped, her hair hanging forward, and she moaned again, a frantic note entering her voice as he suddenly squeezed her clit firmly between finger and thumb.

“Use your words, baby,” he said tauntingly.

“Please!” was the only word Skye could get out. “Please, please, AHHHH!” as his free hand suddenly came down on her backside again. The combination of the sudden sharp sting of pain and his callused fingers on her clit pushed her right up to the razor edge of pleasure - and she _couldn’t come_. The pinch on her clit was too tight.

Brock kissed gently down Skye’s spine, smiling to himself as she shuddered and pleaded. Without their bond, he wouldn’t be able to gauge so precisely just what she was feeling, just what she needed.

“Colour, Skye,” he checked anyway.

“G-green,” she choked out after a moment, her head clearing a little. “Oh God, Brock, I’m so close, please, please let me come.”

“Not just yet, sweetheart.” He kept up the pressure on her clit for a few moments, waiting for her to come down a little, and then let go. Smiled as he heard her moan again, occupied himself for a few moments with tracing over his name on her lower back with his tongue.

“ _Brock_ ,” Skye moaned.

“That’s what it says, sweetheart. Says you’re _mine_ ,” his voice dropped to a low, possessive growl. His fingers thrust inside her at that moment, and Skye cried out, her back arching. Brock smacked once more on her bottom, feeling the sudden clench of muscles around his fingers.

“You going to come for me, sweet girl?” he crooned softly.

“Want to come - _on_ you,” Skye gasped. “Please. Want your cock in me, Brock, I _need_ it.”

“There’s my good girl,” he slipped his fingers out of her, stripped his clothes off quickly and repositioned himself to kneel between her thighs. “This what you want?” He teased the head of his swollen cock around her entrance for a moment, pushing forward to rub on her clit.

Skye jerked, her hands tugging at her restraints as she tried to push back onto him, and he could tell she was beyond words, beyond anything but need. “I got you,” he said softly, reaching forward to gather her hair in one hand, tug it lightly and bring her head back. The slight pain as he pulled on her hair only pushed Skye further, though, and she let out a low, wordless howl of frustration.

“Okay. Okay, baby,” Brock’s firm hand on her hip steadied her as he slid slowly home.

She moaned, long and loud as he began to move inside her. He pulled a little harder on her hair, arching her back and pulling her arms taut even as he leaned into her. His other arm wrapped around her hips, holding her as he thrust. She couldn’t move, had to depend on him to move for them both, and her helplessness drove them both higher.

“That’s it, baby,”  he murmured into her ear. “Just give in. Let it happen.” He groaned as the wave of pleasure finally broke for her and she came, trembling in his arms. “Good girl,” he praised her, still thrusting into her clenching channel. His fingers found her clit again, teasing her higher instead of letting her come down.

He untangled his other hand from her hair but only to wrap his arm around her, holding her against his chest. His fingers found her breasts instead, tweaking and tugging at her nipples as her body arched against him of its own accord. His lips found her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh.

“Brock!” she cried out, loud in the otherwise quiet cabin. Her body froze as another heady rush of pleasure overwhelmed her senses. Her voice mingled with his moans as her second orgasm drove him over the edge as well. He pushed through it, stroking within her a few more times before he slowed and let her body begin to relax.

Skye went limp in his arms, eyes closed and breathing heavily as she finally began to come down. She barely noticed when he freed her hands, only aware of it when he lowered them both to lie on the bed.

“Love you. _God_ , I love you so much,” Skye whispered as she caught her breath.

“I love you too, baby,” Brock murmured. He held her tighter for a moment. “I won’t ask if you’re alright, because I know you are.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered quietly. “And no, I wouldn’t have any objections to doing that again. Just… not all the time.”

“I understand,” he answered, and he really did. “But thank you for trying it. For indulging me.”

He could feel her smile. “You’re welcome. And thank you, too. For letting me get to it in my own time. For not overwhelming me with it.”

“I’d never risk you, Skye.” He stroked her hair, pressed kisses against her shoulder. “You were wonderful. So wonderful. I’m so lucky.”

“Mm,” she snuggled a little closer. “I like the aftercare part, too.”

That made him laugh, and he stroked her soft skin lovingly, touching her reddened bottom. “Sore?”

“Only in a good kind of way,” Skye reassured.

They curled together for a while, murmuring soft, loving words, minds bathed in a glow of pure joy. And then Skye shivered, feeling a little cool.

“Cold, baby?” Attuned to her as he was, Brock picked it up immediately. “You know what, I should go light the fire downstairs. From the angle of the sun when we arrived, we’re pretty far north here. Tonight could get quite cold, but if I light the fire, the heat from the chimney will warm up here too.”

“Mm, a roaring log fire, sounds nice. Pity there isn’t a nice thick rug in front of it we could make love on,” Skye said teasingly as he rolled over and got up.

“Hah,” Brock stooped to gather up his pants. “I’m sure I could improvise. I’m gonna go check on dinner, too.”

Skye sighed languidly, but without his body heat warming her she felt even colder, and after a couple of minutes sighed and got up. The cabin’s small bathroom was downstairs, as were all her clothes, since she hadn’t brought her bag up yet. With a shrug - who was there to see her but Brock? - she headed down the stairs, naked and unashamed.

He’d gotten the fire lit by the time she came down, and the look in his eyes as she wandered off to the bathroom was very much appreciative. Skye cast him a laughing look over her shoulder. “You had your dominant moment, it’s my turn to be bossy, so get back in the kitchen and finish making my dinner.”

Brock laughed. “You cheeky little witch!” She winked at him before closing the bathroom door, he shook his head with amusement - and went and did exactly as she ordered.

Skye came back out of the bathroom and wandered over to the fire, giving it a desultory stir with the poker.

“Dinner will be a bit longer, probably another half an hour,” Brock advised from the kitchen.

“Okay.” A little bored, Skye wandered over to the box Phil had left on the table, opening it to see the gauntlets Jemma had made for her. Lifting them, she turned them over to examine. They would end at the first knuckle, leaving her fingertips free, which she appreciated. Typing or other fine work would be difficult otherwise, and using her phone impossible. “I’m gonna try these on. Jemma said they should accelerate my healing, which has to be a good thing.”

“I’m all for that,” Brock agreed, coming over and picking up the other gauntlet to look at.

They were tight, and Skye’s sore fingers made it a little hard to pull them on, so Brock helped. Once they were both on, three rings of blue flashed up her forearms - and Skye swayed, suddenly woozy.

“Whoah!” Brock caught and steadied her. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“I don’t know,” still dizzy, Skye tried to shake her head, pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I - I think I might call Jemma and ask.”

Brock guided her to the chair behind the desk, putting his hand on her shoulder, concerned. She winced a little as she sat down, and then chuckled. “I might be doing that for a day or two, I guess.”

Remorseful, he stroked her shoulders, massaging them gently. “Sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be.” Skye tapped keys, frowned as the link failed to connect. “Huh. That’s weird.” Picking up her phone instead, she called Jemma’s cell. And went straight to voicemail.

“That’s odd,” while she was doing that, Brock checked to see if the computer modem was connected. It seemed to be all right, so he knelt down and looked under the desk, following the line to the wall. It went into a hole, no socket visible, so he tugged at the panelling as Skye left Jemma a voice message.

“What are you _doing_?” Skye said, puzzled, ending the call as Brock stood up and pulled at the panelling. Once he got a grip, a piece came away easily in his hands.

“Oh my God,” Skye breathed, shocked. “That’s the same vibranium alloy as in the walls of the Cage!”

“Uh-huh,” Brock was peering at a dent just barely visible at the top of one of the hexagonal panels. He pulled at another piece of the wooden cladding, and they both stood staring in silence at the imprint of an enormous fist.

Skye held her hand up; her whole fist fit inside one of the huge knuckle dents. She and Brock looked at each other.

“Hulk,” they both said in unison.

“This place was built to contain the _Hulk_ ,” Skye whispered, tracing the outline of the huge fist. “Do they think _we’re_ that dangerous?”

There was an odd noise just then, somewhere outside, and Skye startled.

“You heard that?” Brock said, dropping the wooden panel and hurrying to the front door. A glance outside showed him nothing; the sun had set and even his enhanced vision picked up nothing unusual. He closed the door, tapped buttons on the security panel beside it to arm the cabin’s perimeter alarm, before heading back to Skye, who was looking very nervous.

“It’s all right, baby. I’m here. There’s no one there.” He spared a moment to regret his lack of weapons, but Phil had told him to leave his guns and shocksticks behind. Well, anyone coming in here would find that he was far from helpless, even unarmed.

The stress, though, was getting to him, and he could feel the heat building quickly behind his eyes. Picking up his new visor from where he’d left it on the kitchen bench earlier on, he fitted it to his head.

It was a good thing he did, because he jumped just as much as Skye did when there was a booming knock at the door, and he might have fried something otherwise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Knock, knock… who’s there?**
> 
> **Hope you enjoyed this chapter and it was worth waiting for after we left you on that smuthanger so long!**
> 
>  


	41. Uninvited Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Skye have a visitor they never anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40 Chapters behind us, more than 125,000 words posted, over 1100 comments and 800 Kudos. And we’re still going. It will take us at least another ten chapters to get through the end of S2.
> 
> Many thanks to everyone for continued support and feedback. We’re very glad you’re all still enjoying!
> 
> Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episode 15, and uses portions of dialogue from this episode.

 

Skye started for the door, only to be stopped by Brock’s hand on her arm. He nudged her towards the fireplace, saw her pick up the iron poker before going to the door himself. None of the alarms had gone off, and he’d just checked the porch, so something very strange had to be happening.

Cautiously, Brock opened the door; his body tense, ready to jump into action at the slightest threat. He didn’t need a weapon to be deadly, but someone wanting to kill them was unlikely to just knock on the door. What he saw on the other side caught him by surprise; a tallish man with short brown hair and no eyes stood on the porch.

“Hello Brock, Skye,” the man greeted them with a smile. “I’m Gordon.” Brock tensed further, confused about how this stranger could know their names. “May I come in?” Gordon asked. He held his hands up, palms out to show that he had no weapons.

Skye approached slowly, poker still in hand. She could feel Brock’s wariness, but curiosity also drew her.

“You’re the man that grabbed Skye’s father,” Brock said, his tone challenging.

Gordon nodded his agreement. “I am.”

With a curse, Brock stepped away from the door and towards Skye, tacitly allowing the man in. “Good of you to knock, then,” he said sarcastically, “since you could’ve just appeared inside.” He stopped right beside Skye, their arms touching; if he was correct, the other man wouldn’t be able to take Skye without touching her, and wouldn’t be able to only take one of them if they were touching too. Or so he hoped.

Gordon stepped inside and closed the door, acknowledging both Brock’s comment and his caution. “You are correct, but it was not my intent to alarm anyone.” His face tilted downwards, towards the poker still in Skye’s hand. “So, what was the plan with that?” he asked in a steady tone.

“You…” Skye hesitated. “You can see?”

“Not the way that you do,” Gordon admitted. “But I can see that you’re afraid.” He smiled again, gentler this time. “You don’t need to be, not with me.”

“Who are you?” Brock asked, breaking into the conversation. He fought the impulse to keep his body between this Gordon and Skye, but he knew Skye wouldn’t appreciate it.

“I’m like you,” he answered, facing them steadily. There was no way to know who Gordon was looking at, no flick of the eyes from Brock to Skye or back again. But he still somehow seemed sincere. “I’ve come here as a friend.” Skye let the poker drop, her arm at her side. Gordon turned away, pacing slowly. “I can’t imagine how it must have felt, to go through your transformation without any understanding of what to expect. I had years  to prepare and still, I was horrified by what I became.”

Skye looked startled and sympathetic at the same time. Brock, however, interrupted, “Wait, there are people who prepare for this sort of thing?”

“Well, yes,” Gordon answered, sounding as if he hadn’t expected that question. “Granted, I was younger than either of you when it was my turn.” He turned towards the couch and waved his hand. “May I sit?”

Though Skye was still speechless, startled and surprised, she nodded when Brock didn’t answer. Gordon sat on the couch and Skye drifted towards the hearth, sitting on the stones with Brock still right beside her.

“This couch is very uncomfortable,” Gordon commented dryly. “I wish you wouldn’t stare,” he said, and Skye immediately darted her eyes away, beginning to stutter an apology when he cut her off. “That was a joke. I’m not very good at them,” he admitted, shaking his head.

Good at jokes or not, Skye did begin to relax. Especially since Gordon apparently had no intention of threatening her or Brock. Brock was still wary, though; in the back of her mind she felt it, but also felt his acknowledgement of the fact that when it came to new things she was always going to be the more curious, the more accepting.

“I don’t mind that you’re curious,” Gordon continued, unaware of the silent byplay through the soulbond. “And yes, I used to have eyes. They were blue. This,” he said, gesturing to his face, “this was the obvious change, for me. But what happens inside can be just as profound.”

“How so?” Skye asked, finally finding her voice. Unconsciously, her hand found Brock’s and held tightly. Gordon smiled, just a little, and she felt that he saw her movement.

“The mist, it changes everyone differently,” he explained. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But the real difference between you two and me is what happened to us after we went through the mist.”

“What do you mean?” Brock asked, Skye’s curiosity getting the better of him, though he still watched Gordon’s every move closely for threatening behavior.

“Well, I knew from an early age how special I was,” Gordon told them. “I had a mentor, a guide of sorts. And the first thing she did after I transformed,” he paused for just a heartbeat, his hands spreading wide, “was embrace me.” Gordon leaned forward, his expression intent. “Tell me, Skye. What was the first thing that SHIELD did to you?”

Skye looked down at her hands, encased in Jemma’s gauntlets, and then around at the cabin. But then she looked at Brock. “They helped us both get out of the tunnel. And when I got out, Agent May did hug me. She said she was glad we were alright, and she helped calm me down.” Skye took a deep breath, her fingers laced with Brock’s. “The mists broke our soulbond; thank god it was only temporary. But I kinda panicked for a minute.”

Gordon’s expression turned sympathetic. “No one who has gone through the mists had a functional soulbond before their change. Some few have had marks, but they didn’t meet their soulmates until after. Some gained new marks after transforming, but I’m sorry to say that no one ever considered that the transformation might break a bond. Thank you for that; we’ll have to incorporate it into our studies.”

Skye nodded. “We were able to re-bond, after. But I don’t want to think about what might have happened if we hadn’t both been there…”

“Then let’s not,” Gordon replied, accepting her preference without argument. “What does it feel like? Your gift?”

Skye paused a moment to consider it; while she thought, Brock spoke up. “It’s like a burning in and behind my eyes. It’s painful, but it doesn’t damage me. Only other things, other people. But when I’m calm and linked to Skye, it sometimes fades and I can see normally again.”

“Does that,” Gordon gestured to Brock’s visor, “help you?”

“Well, it keeps the light from escaping to hurt other people when I don’t want it to.” Brock shrugged. “It lets me see, rather than keeping my eyes closed. But I only wear it when I need to.”

Gordon nodded and turned his attention to Skye as she spoke up, “Mine’s… intense. Like a thousand bees are trapped inside of me, and I feel it. All the time. It’s always there. And I can’t stop it,” she said in a low voice.

“Why would you want to stop it?” Gordon asked, his expression neutral but his voice genuinely curious.

“Because I destroy everything around me.”

“That is simply not true,” Gordon said with a smile. He got up slowly, walking around the couch. “Every object in this universe gives off a vibration. Did you know that? Nothing rests. Animals, trees, people, even this ratty couch,” he said, patting the back of the furniture with both hands. “And you, you have the ability to tap into those vibrations.” Skye listened thoughtfully. “Don’t you see?” Gordon asked, smiling again. “You could become magnificent. But something’s inhibiting you, constraining your energy. Blocking his.” He waved a hand at Brock.

Skye looked down at her hands and shook her head. “Um, no. My friend’s a scientist. She made these to protect me. Like Brock’s visor, to help with control.”

“Or do they protect people from you?” Gordon asked, his tone knowing even as he turned her argument on its side. Because Brock’s visor was meant to protect other people as well as enable him to see.

Still, Skye persisted. “No, it’s not like that. My powers, I can’t control them. And when I try to it hurts me.”

“Most gifts come with a price,” Gordon agreed, his voice low and even again. “But you could learn to manage it.” He looked at them both intently before looking away. “I apologize, I’m saying too much. This is probably not the best place to continue our conversation. Neither of you has the tools or the understanding that you need, just yet.”

“To do what?” Skye questioned, her curiosity piqued again.

“To be who you were always meant to be. Without fear, without pain. We can offer that to you.”

“How?” Brock and Skye both asked, his voice suspicious and hers disbelieving.

“I’ll take you to a place where you can be with people like us. “

“Us?” Skye asked, standing abruptly. “How many are there?”

But Gordon didn’t answer her. “You can learn about yourself, there, both of you,” he told her gently. “Your gifts. You can be safe. But only if you want to come.” He shifted his face towards Brock. Brock also stood and placed his hand on Skye’s shoulder supportively. “When you’re ready. I’ll find you,” he said, straightening his coat and turning towards the door.

“How will you find us?” she asked, but he spoke before she could fully finish the question.

“Trust me. I’ll know.” And in a flash of blue lightning, he was gone.

Skye leaned back against Brock, and he wrapped her in his arms. They had a lot to think about.

“We should eat,” Brock said finally, and Skye nodded against his chest.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

He went to the kitchen to dish up their dinner, and Skye automatically went to wash her hands before eating, only realising when she got to the sink that she still had her gauntlets on. Looking down at them, she hesitated - and then began to peel them off.

Brock saw her doing it, said nothing. Carried their plates to the table and returned to get water glasses. As he turned to the sink, he stopped in wonder.

“Look,” Skye whispered, “look, Brock!”

“I see it,” he leaned over her shoulder, watched in fascination as the water spiralled between her hands. “That’s what Gordon meant. The vibrations.”

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s not only meant to destroy,” Skye said softly, still staring in awe at the spiralling water.

There wasn’t much Brock could say, because he was pretty sure what had happened to his eyes could only be destructive. Skye felt the emotion, though, and her control of the water collapsed.

In silence, Brock filled the water glasses and took them to the table. Skye followed, and they sat down to eat.

They were halfway through their meal when Skye’s phone rang. Thinking it might be Jemma calling her back, she reached for it and answered the call, putting it on speaker.

“Skye,” May’s voice said.

“May, what’s happening? I couldn’t connect to you guys.”

“You need to get out of there… now.”

“What, why? What are you talking about?” Skye asked, surprised.

Brock was already on his feet. The note in May’s voice was one he’d only heard a couple of times.

“There’s a panel on the southwest corner of the compound. It’ll let you bring down the laser grid fence.”

“May, stop!” Skye cried.

“Skye, there's no time,” Brock grabbed her arm. “Come on.”

“Take care of her, Rumlow, and go. Run. They’re coming for you!”

“Who?” he asked, grabbing up the phone as they ran for the door.

“SHIELD,” was the answer, much to his horror. He clicked the phone off and threw it behind him as they raced out the door - they could be tracked by its signal, if it really was SHIELD after them. Fury, he thought angrily. It could only be Fury. What the fuck was the one-eyed bastard playing at now?

“Shit!” he hissed between his teeth as he heard the roar of quinjet engines and searchlights suddenly lit up the darkness. “Come on, Skye!”

Brock moderated his pace to Skye’s best speed - she could never keep up with him if he ran flat out - even debated picking her up and carrying her, but right now it would probably be best to have his hands free. He settled for guiding her around obstacles, making sure she didn’t fall in the darkness of the woods. It was difficult enough for him, his vision impeded by the visor, but he didn’t dare take it off.

“Where the fuck is this panel?” he muttered under his breath. His sense of direction was impeccable, they were running southwest for sure. Skye was gasping beside him, out of breath after that sustained headlong sprint through the trees.

“Stop!” a voice shouted behind them, and they both whirled to see an armed SHIELD tac agent.

The agent wasn’t prepared for how fast Brock closed the gap between them. He pulled the trigger on his gun, but the shot went straight up in the air, and a second later he was on the ground unconscious.

“Good, weapons,” Brock grunted, bending down to release the strap of the tac agent’s assault rifle.

“Here’s the panel, Brock!” Skye said behind him, and he turned his head to see her tapping frantically at it.

“Good, get us out of here!”

“Skye!” a voice shouted then, and he spun back around, yanking at the gun, but the strap was tangled and he couldn’t get it loose.

Wait. Was that Bobbi? Brock blinked, disconcerted, and then saw another agent step out of the trees, gun raised. And that - that was Tomàs Calderon! What the hell was he doing here? He was an old friend, Brock and Tomàs went through the Academy together, and Brock knew he definitely wasn’t HYDRA…

… Calderon’s gun was pointed at Skye, and it wasn’t an ICER.

Brock’s lips peeled back in an instinctive snarl, and he leaped back towards Skye. Calderon was too far away for him to intercept, but Brock could take that bullet for Skye, he could see Calderon’s finger tightening on the trigger.

“No!” Bobbi screamed, but she was too late, the gunshot sounded just as Brock reached Skye…

… and Skye sidestepped gracefully, her hands coming up, her mind absolutely focussed.

There was a tremendous sound, like a thunderclap of air. Brock was deafened for a moment, but he spun around to see Bobbi and Calderon flying backwards through the air, the massive tree that had been slightly off to one side splintering and shattering into a million lethally sharp shards - one of which pierced Tomàs Calderon’s chest just above his heart.

And then there was only silence, and the distant shouts of other agents in the woods.

“Oh God,” Skye stood staring with horror. “What - what have I done?”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay!” Brock grabbed for her, held her tightly. The visor around his head was heating to incredible temperatures with his stress, and he grunted with pain, feeling it sear his skin.

Feeling his pain, Skye panicked. “We have to get out of here.” Taking a deep breath, she whispered “Gordon!”

There was a flash of blue light beside them. Gordon’s voice was kind as he said gently; “Would you like to go home?”

Skye nodded against Brock’s chest. Gordon put an arm around each of them, and there was another flash of blue light.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, RealSHIELD still has their stupid bias against powered people and Calderon’s mistake still gets him hurt. Because no change can have only good effects, and in this case Brock’s presence only made some of them more determined to be rid of the threat. Calderon knew only too well how dangerous Rumlow was even before the change. A superpowered Rumlow was something he very much didn’t want to have to face.


	42. Afterlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Gordon took them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episode 16, and uses portions of dialogue from this episode.

Brock’s eyes opened slowly, and he stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Instantly he reached for Skye with his mind - she was close, not immediately beside him but nearby, and sleeping peacefully. His mouth tightened. They were both asleep at the same time. That wasn’t supposed to happen - although he had to assume he hadn’t nightmared. He wasn’t wearing his visor, either, and there was no pain in his eyes. 

Turning his head to look for Skye, he saw only white walls, medical equipment - that gave him a jolt. A hospital? But no, one of the walls was a paper screen painted with Chinese characters in a beautiful calligraphic style.  _ That  _ didn’t belong in a hospital.

The last thing he remembered was Gordon grabbing him and Skye. Pushing himself up on his arms, Brock winced suddenly and looked down - he was nude apart from a thin sheet loosely draped across his groin, and there were acupuncture needles stuck in his stomach and thighs. 

“What the hell?” he reached down to pull them out.

“Please don’t move!” a voice said, and Brock started, looking up to see a man standing beside a gap at the end of the paper screen wall. He was young - mid-twenties, Brock guessed, about Skye’s age, blond and quite handsome. He had a serene, calming air about him. 

“Where’s Skye?” She was all Brock really gave a damn about anyway.

“Right here, behind the screen. She’s sleeping,” the young man gestured with a smile. “Please, Brock, lie down.”

He obeyed reluctantly, though he wanted to rush to Skye’s side, but he could tell the other man had been telling the truth anyway. “Who are you, and where am I?”

“This is Afterlife. I’m Lincoln, your transitioner. I’ve been assigned to help you - and Skye - through the Change.”

Brock lay still and watched as Lincoln moved around, adjusting the acupuncture needles, taking his pulse and checking his blood pressure. He seemed professional, so Brock asked;

“Are you a doctor?”

“No,” Lincoln shook his head with a regretful little smile. “I got to third year of med school, but had to drop out. I’d like to go back and finish, one day, but my people need me here.”

A door opened and closed, and a moment later Gordon came walking in. “Hi Brock,” he said, keeping his voice low. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. You knocked us out when you transported us?”

Gordon nodded with a slightly sheepish smile. “Sorry about that. I wanted to get you settled and your powers stabilised as soon as possible; I felt it was safest. You in particular were very agitated. That visor thing you were wearing had heated to extreme temperatures, you had some pretty bad burns on your temples and forehead.”

Brock blinked, put his hands up to feel. But there was only smooth, healed skin, which told him that he’d been unconscious for at least forty-eight hours.

“Your body chemistry is just,” Lincoln looked at Gordon, looked back at Brock and spread his hands, “for want of a better word, weird as hell. Even for an Inhuman.”

Brock smiled bitterly. “Yes. Well, HYDRA decided to enhance me.” Seeing the other two men stiffen defensively, he shook his head. “I’m not HYDRA. But I used to be, and they subjected me to some of their experiments. I was aware that things had changed, but - not by how much.”

“Terrigenesis changed you further,” Lincoln said with a nod. “It took some doing, to stabilise your body chemistry.”

There was a slight sound from next door, and at the same instant Brock started upright again. “Skye!”

“Brock you cannot take those needles out now!” Lincoln tried to push him down. “It’s important, you must lie still.”

Gordon had dashed next door, and Brock could hear him speaking to Skye, though not the words. Skye’s words - and her emotions - were loud and clear, though. 

“I have to go! My friends - they’re in trouble - something bad has happened - Brock, I know you’re close, where are you?”

“I’m right here, baby,” he called, trying to send her reassuring vibes. “Okay, Lincoln, fine, I’ll lie down, go see to Skye.”

Lincoln gave him one long, hard look and then nodded. “You stay put. I’ll be back soon.”

Brock closed his eyes, focusing for the moment on staying calm and helping Skye to calm down.

In her room, Skye listened to Gordon try to calm her but Brock’s reassurance helped more. She tried to shift, tried to get up and couldn’t. “Why can’t I move? What are you doing to me?”

“You’re healing,” Lincoln told her as he entered the room. “You and Brock both. Leaving now would be, well…” He crossed over to a computer, standing at the keyboard. “Have you ever made microwave popcorn? Leave it in too long it’s charcoal, take it out too soon it’s a bag of kernels. That might be the worst analogy ever,” he said, his tone chagrined. “Gordon, help me out here.”

“You’re on your own with this one,” Gordon told him before turning back to Skye with a soft smile. “I have to go now. You’re in very good hands.” He leaned in, adding in a stage whisper, “He’s smarter than he looks.”

Lincoln shot a look at Gordon, asking, “How would you know that?” in a mildly teasing tone. Gordon just smirked as he walked out of the room. “He’s been by your side since the moment you got here. Right up until five minutes ago, when Brock woke up. Probably figured it was best to have a familiar face around when he woke, though I’m sure he didn’t mean to leave you to wake up alone either.”

“Who are you?” Skye asked, a little impatient but calmer now that she knew Brock was nearby and safe.

Lincoln looked up from the tablet in his hands, “Sorry, I thought… I’m Lincoln, your transitioner.” Skye just looked at him without comprehension. “Right,” he said as he walked over. “I-I keep forgetting that you’re new to this. E-everyone who goes through terrigenesis has a, uh, transitioner to help them.”

“Please cut to the chase,” Skye whispered, body arching slightly as the needles in her skin crackled softly.

“Right, yeah,” Lincoln said, grabbing a chair and moving it to her bedside. “Let me start from the top.” Upon hearing that, Skye opened her mind fully to Brock and allowed him to hear what Lincoln said to her as well. “Imagine a thousand years of evolution taking place instantaneously. T-that's what happened to you after the mist. These treatments... we're helping your body adjust properly to the change, transitioning you quickly and painlessly, I hope. We usually like to start the process right after the mist, but as…”

“How long?” she asked. When he didn’t seem to know what she was asking, she clarified, “How long? When can I go?”

“You got places to be, people to see?” he asked skeptically.

“I'm worried about my friends. I think they're in danger,” she told him quietly.

“You're the one that's in danger, Skye. Remember? You're being hunted. You both were. Wasn’t that why you called Gordon?”

She looked away, then shook her head. “No. That was… they weren’t our friends. I think those people were after our other friends, too.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “I called Gordon because I panicked. A man shot at me, and Brock was going to try to get in the way, and I just… I held up my hands, and sent everything flying…” She closed her eyes, letting Brock’s soothing thoughts keep her calm.

“Just rest for now,” Lincoln said reassuringly. “The needles are almost done, and then I can show you around a bit. Brock is right next door, and he’s almost done too. I should probably go talk to him, too,” he added sheepishly.

Skye smiled, just a little. “You could. But I relayed what you said to me, so he’s aware of what’s happening too.”

Lincoln blinked at her. “You what?”

“He’s my soulmate. We were bonded before the… the mists.”

“Gordon mentioned that, and that the mists broke your bond. But you reconnected?” Lincoln looked genuinely curious, and Skye remembered that this effect was unknown here.

“Yeah. And we’ve been physically close together ever since. The bond is strong.” She carefully didn’t say how strong; they’d avoided telling Gordon that Brock could use her eyes. But she didn’t think there was any harm in letting him know that she could relay information. Brock tentatively agreed, but wanted to keep the details of how deep their bond went to themselves for the moment.

Lincoln actually smiled a little. “I’m glad you didn’t lose that. It can be hard for us to make things work if our soulmates aren’t also Inhuman.” Skye looked a little sad at that bit of information, but she didn’t say anything else. “Just rest. Let the acupuncture do its work. I’ll be back in a little while when they’re done.”

“Okay,” Skye answered quietly.

As promised, Lincoln returned a short time later and removed the needles. “Here,” he said, setting a stack of dark clothing down on a side table nearby. “Everything’s been washed for you, so it’s clean. I’ll leave you alone to get dressed.”

“Thanks,” she answered quietly. She waited until he left the room, then got up and dressed quickly. She felt Brock growing closer as she laced up her boots and she looked up with a smile when the door opened again. Brock joined her quickly, his visor nowhere to be seen and only a slightly pink tinge to his skin showing where he had healed while they were sleeping. Lincoln followed Brock into the room and stood back quietly as the couple shared a deep kiss and a warm embrace.

“How are you feeling?” Lincoln asked when they finally parted.

“Kind of… normal,” Skye answered after a moment.

“Normal’s good,” was Lincoln’s reply. “We flushed your lymphatic and circulatory systems, so you might both be a little weak for a few days.” His eyes ran over Brock. “Or possibly not; it’s hard to say with your physical differences. But please, do let me know if you notice anything unusual or if you don’t feel quite right.”

Brock nodded. “We will, and thank you.” 

“We need to get a message to our friends,” Skye began; only Brock’s deep well of patience kept her from interrupting their well-meaning transitioner.

“Gordon’s the only one who can make contact with the outside world. We can talk to him when he gets back.”

“Where are we?” Brock asked, his tone curious.

“No one really knows,” Lincoln explained calmly. “Um, the official name is Chinese, I think. Lai Shi. It, uh, doesn’t exactly translate.” He led them towards the main doors, opening them with a flourish to reveal a beautiful mountain-scape, great peaks with snow reflecting the sunlight. He led the way outside, enjoying their startled looks as they took in the view. “We just call it Afterlife,” he finished in a lower tone.

Brock blinked at the view for a moment - well, that answered one question, he’d been wondering what the range on Gordon’s teleportation gift was, and the answer was apparently not limited in the least. He only allowed himself a few seconds to take in the spectacular view before looking around, making a rapid tactical assessment.

They were high up, he could tell that from the cold, thin quality of the air. The architecture of the buildings around them was definitely not Western; it looked Tibetan or perhaps Nepalese, mostly wooden with traditional construction methods. Paved paths and carefully tended gardens gave the place a tranquil, serene air. 

“You say the name of this place is Chinese,” Brock said to Lincoln, since Skye was still taking in the view. “Are we in China?” It was quite possible, from the look of those mountains. Western China, in the Himalayas somewhere would be his guess.

Lincoln was shaking his head. “No idea. Gordon’s the only one who knows where we are, and he’s the only way in or out. It keeps us safe from the outside world.”

“Or it keeps us prisoners,” Skye cut in. Brock sent her a cautionary thought. They didn’t want to offend their hosts.

“You’re not very trusting, are you?” Lincoln said.

Warned by Brock not to push their luck, Skye forced a chuckle and made a joking remark about waking up naked on a table, keeping Lincoln’s attention on her while Brock continued to look around, assessing the place. Utterly indefensible, he quickly concluded, at least from an air attack. Two quinjets could raze the place in a minute. Unless there were Inhumans here with powers that could counter that sort of thing. Which was a dark thought. 

Brock started to pay attention again when Skye commented that they were being stared at. He’d noticed, of course, but paid no attention since the glances they were attracting were merely curious rather than hostile. And then he blinked with surprise when Lincoln told her that what had happened to them hadn’t happened in thousands of years. That other Inhumans went through an exhaustive selection process before being permitted to transform. 

Skye’s hand sought his. “We didn’t want this,” she told Lincoln quietly. 

“I understand,” the blond replied, and Brock thought he actually might, considering the sympathy in his glance. 

“The woman who changed with us, Raina,” he said then, realising just how Gordon must have found out his name. “Gordon took her, and Skye’s father - are they here?”

Skye’s hand tightened on his, and he felt her sudden panic. He soothed her instinctively, reassuring her through the bond that he would never let anyone hurt her. Even as Lincoln avoided answering the question, leading them away from the medical treatment room and to a small building nearby.

“This is a room that has been prepared for you. It’s yours, for as long as you want,” he opened the door and gestured inside. “Gordon brought your bags from the cabin, so, you know, take some time to relax.”

Skye picked up the gauntlets that were lying on the top of the bag, and Lincoln reached out to take them from her. “Don’t. The inhibitors these released seriously compromised the transition process. It’s one of the reasons you were out for so long.”

“My friend, she was just trying to help,” Skye objected.

Lincoln opened his mouth, perhaps to argue, but Brock cut him off. “Why was _ I  _ out so long, then? I didn’t have any inhibitors compromising  _ my  _ transition process.”

“No,” Lincoln agreed, “but as I already mentioned, your biology was already altered by whatever HYDRA did to you. Your transition was even more complicated than Skye’s.”

“It was?” Skye looked up at him, her expression changing to instant concern. 

“It’s all right, love. I’m fine.” He returned his attention to Lincoln. “What now?”

“Get some rest. Tomorrow, perhaps we’ll see what gifts you’ve been blessed with.”

“It’s more like a curse!” Skye exclaimed angrily.

“A lot of us feel that way at first, but you’ll learn to control it,” Lincoln said kindly.

“I don’t want to  _ control  _ it, I want to  _ get rid _ of it!” Skye cried. “We both do! That’s why I called Gordon, I thought he’d be able to  _ fix  _ us.”

Lincoln looked stricken. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew. The transition is irreversible.”

Brock had already suspected that was the case. But hearing it said aloud seemed to utterly devastate Skye, and she crumpled against him. He nodded a curt farewell at Lincoln and closed the door in the younger man’s face. 

“Hush, baby,” he murmured soothingly to Skye, holding her close. She began to cry against his chest, great gulping sobs, and he lifted her gently and carried her to the bed, holding her to him until she finally calmed.

“What are we going to do?” she whispered at last, and he shook his head.

“I wish I knew, sweetheart. I wish I knew.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this chapter wound up being modifications to the events of AoS. I hope we managed to make them interesting, though!


	43. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock meets the Elders, and he and Skye test out their control over their powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episode 16, and may use portions of dialogue from this episode._

 

Brock woke the next morning at what he guessed was probably an hour or so after sunrise. His internal clock was still a little off-kilter, but not as bad as he’d have thought given that his best guess put them on the opposite side of the globe from the cabin. They’d both slept fairly well, all things considered. He wasn’t sure how they’d avoided nightmares again, but apparently something was keeping them in check. He did his best to keep his thoughts to himself, not wanting to wake Skye, but she was already surfacing from her dreams anyway.

“Morning,” she murmured sleepily.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Brock answered softly.

“What time is it?”

“Not entirely sure,” he answered with a low chuckle. “But the sun’s up.”

“Mmm,” she hummed in acknowledgement more than anything else.

“Maybe we should get dressed,” Brock suggested lightly. “See if we can figure out where breakfast is.”

“I hope they have coffee,” was Skye’s response. She burrowed into the warmth of his arms for a moment longer before rolling onto her back. “Okay. I’m awake. Enough to find clothes and food, anyway.”

Brock laughed quietly and rolled himself out of bed. At least it was comfortable; he could sleep just about anywhere, but a decent bed was always nice. The pair dressed reasonably quickly, retrieving clean clothes from their bags. Skye took a little longer untangling her hair, and Brock leaned against the wall to watch her. They were about to head for the door when someone knocked on it.

Waving Skye back from the door, Brock moved to open it himself. On the other side was Lincoln, with a large, covered tray in his hands. “Good morning,” Lincoln greeted them. “I come bearing breakfast,” he said in a light tone.

“We’d wondered about that,” Skye said as Brock moved out of Lincoln’s way and allowed him into the room.

“There is a communal dining room, but most of us fend for ourselves,” Lincoln explained. “Since I hadn’t had a chance to show you yet, I thought I’d make sure you got something to eat.”

When the cover was removed, a large dish of scrambled eggs, a stack of pancakes, and a teapot were revealed. Lincoln stepped back outside to retrieve a stack of plates, on top of which balanced 3 mugs and sets of silverware. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you.”

Brock and Skye exchanged a quick glance, then Skye said, “Not at all. Please.” She gestured to the low table where the food sat and they all made themselves comfortable.

They served themselves readily and Brock poured tea for Skye and Lincoln. “No coffee?” Skye asked, pouting just slightly.

Lincoln smiled a little and shrugged. “It’s hard to get here. But tea we have in plenty. At least it’s caffeine,” he offered and Skye nodded.

“So, what happens today?” Skye asked after their immediate hunger was sated.

“Today, I’d like you to come out with me while we assess your gift,” Lincoln explained readily. His gaze shifted to Brock, “The Elders would like to speak with you while Skye is being assessed. Then it will be your turn for assessment.” Brock tensed slightly, but Skye accepted the information calmly.

_I’m not worried about them separating us,_ Skye whispered into Brock’s mind. _They can’t keep this from working._

_That we know of,_ he thought back wryly. “And after assessment?” Brock asked aloud.

“Once we know what your gifts are, a guide - a mentor, really - will be selected to help you learn,” Lincoln explained. “Some gifts have enough in common that one person might be able to understand another’s. If the gift is more unique, or there isn’t anyone here who thinks they can grasp it, someone will volunteer to work with the newly gifted and try different ideas until they find something that works. Trust me,” Lincoln’s expression became earnest as he looked at Skye, then Brock, then back to Skye again. “We won’t leave you to struggle alone.”

Skye nodded, biting her lip. Then she returned her attention to finishing breakfast, leaving the heavier topic behind for the moment. When they were all finished, she helped Lincoln stack up the dishes. “We can drop them off back in the kitchens, then go take care of your assessment.” She nodded while he turned to Brock. “Someone should be coming for you any time, now.”

“Got it. You be careful out there,” Brock answered, glancing meaningfully at Skye before meeting Lincoln’s eyes again. The younger man replied with a nod and a small smile before turning to Skye and leading her out of the building.

Lincoln leaving must have been a signal of some kind, because Gordon knocked on the door just moments after Brock was left alone. “Please, come with me,” Gordon said to him rather than asking to be allowed in. “The Elders are ready to speak with you, now.”

“And who are The Elders, then?” Brock fell into step with Gordon, who was leading him towards one of the larger buildings in the village.

“Today it’s just me and Jiaying,” Gordon answered calmly, opening a door and gesturing Brock inside.

A beautiful Asian woman - she didn’t look Chinese, precisely, making him think about Tibet or Nepal again for their location - stood from behind an ornately carved antique desk and gave Brock a small smile.

“Mr. Rumlow.”

“Jiaying, I presume? Please, call me Brock.” He returned the smile, trying to be open and friendly, offered his hand. She seemed reluctant to take it, but eventually shook it quickly and lightly, gesturing him to a seat before the desk. Gordon perched a hip casually on the edge of the desk as Jiaying reseated herself.

Brock studied her intently. _This_ was an Elder of the Inhumans? He could understand Gordon being one of the leadership group, with powers as significant as his were. Especially since apparently only he was trusted to bring people in and out of Afterlife. But this woman looked little older than Skye; even if she was aging remarkably well he doubted she could be as much as forty years old.

Old, thin scars marred the symmetry of features that would otherwise be outstandingly beautiful, and her dark brown eyes were very hard and cold. She was studying him just as intently as he was her, Brock realised, and quite deliberately leant back in his chair and relaxed his posture.

“What can I do for you today, ma’am? Gordon said you would like to ask me some questions.”

Those hard eyes flickered over to Gordon, and then Jiaying spoke. “Would you please tell us exactly what led to you and Daisy passing through the mists, Brock? In your own words.”

_You know already,_ he wanted to say. _You must. Because you know my name and you know it happened in a Kree temple with a Diviner, and there’s only one person who could have told you that. Raina’s already given you all this. And you’re calling Skye ‘Daisy’. Which means that Cal has been talking to you as well._

Instead, Brock smiled. “Certainly. We didn’t know what the Diviner was then, of course. We just knew that HYDRA were seeking to weaponise its effects.” He briefly summarised the events that had led up to him, Skye and Raina ending up in the temple.

“HYDRA,” Jiaying said then, steepling her fingers on the desk and looking at him coldly. “Your former employers.”

_Raina again_ , Brock thought. This time he decided to drop her name. “Raina too, of course. Indeed, she was working with them on weaponising those effects. Among other distasteful projects.”

Raina’s name got a reaction out of Jiaying; her lips tightened. Gordon immediately jumped in, and Brock found himself wondering if the two of them were lovers. They seemed very close.

“We’re interested in _your_ reasons for leaving HYDRA, Brock.”

“Skye,” Brock replied with a calm shrug. “She’s the only reason I needed. Meeting her made me understand that I was wrong in what I’d believed.”

“And your past with HYDRA?” Jiaying said, her tone contemptuous.

Brock gave her a hard look in return. “Is, forgive me for speaking frankly, none of your business.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Gordon said lightly, “Of course. The future is what we are concerned with now.”

“I can assure you that I have no current connections with HYDRA. If they ever got their hands on me it would not go well for me, that’s for sure. I betrayed them, helped Captain America wreck Project Insight which was their big plan for world domination. I’ve no doubt that they’ve put a hefty price on my head.”

“And SHIELD? Because it appears that they are hunting you now too,” Jiaying pointed out.

“Until I’m able to check in with the Director, I won’t know what that was all about,” Brock responded, willing himself to stay calm. He wasn’t going to give these people any more about SHIELD than they could have got out of Cal or Raina. In the back of his mind, he could feel Skye; she wasn’t concentrating on him, was instead doing something that filled her with a childlike sense of wonder. He thought about looking through her eyes, but right now he really needed to concentrate on the little inquisition Jiaying and Gordon were putting him through.

“Who are your parents?” Jiaying asked point blank. “We are aware of Daisy’s lineage, but not of yours. Do you have siblings, cousins…”

“There’s no one but me,” Brock cut her off sharply. He hadn’t even talked to Skye about this, resented having to speak of it now. “My mother was a sixties hippie, a flower child rebelling against strict parents. She met my father in Kathmandu, had a brief affair with him.”

Both Jiaying and Gordon twitched at the mention of Kathmandu, glanced at each other.

“Whoever he was, he didn’t stick around. Mom went back to the States when she discovered she was pregnant. She died when I was six. My grandparents had disowned her, didn’t want me; I went into the foster system. I have no siblings, no living relatives that I know of.” He smiled tightly. “Unless, of course, there’s some guy wandering around up here who had an affair with Lisa Rumlow forty-five years ago. I don’t suppose you keep DNA on file?”

They didn’t seem to have much more to ask him after that. A few minutes later and they let him go; he told Gordon that he could make his own way back to the room he and Skye were sharing. Walking away from Jiaying’s office, he paused, ostensibly to look at the view. He was a fair distance from the office and no normal human could possibly have heard anything. Brock, though, hadn’t been normal even before he went through the mists.

“I don’t like him,” Jiaying said.

“You were predisposed not to like him,” Gordon responded cheerfully.

“Perhaps. But you see what he was, is still; a man of violence. How many have met their deaths at his hands? I see it in him, barely concealed beneath the surface. He used to be a STRIKE agent, and how many of ours have they killed over the years? Very likely there is our people’s blood on Rumlow’s hands.”

Brock could hear footfalls; suspected Jiaying was pacing. “If he had been among us here, he would _never_ have been allowed to pass through the mists. And if he had somehow done so anyway, I would have already ordered him put down.”

“You can’t,” Gordon’s voice was soft. “They’re soulbonded. Kill Rumlow now and you lose Daisy. She would likely go insane, if she didn’t follow him to the grave.”

“I know!” Jiaying made a hissing sound. “If only we had found her before they passed through the mists! I never imagined that could break a soulbond. We could have destroyed him then, before they re-bonded.”

“No use crying over spilt milk, Jiaying.”

“I know,” she said again. “I know.”

Brock could see Skye and Lincoln walking back towards him. He hadn’t allowed himself to become angry or concerned by Jiaying’s sentiments, knowing that Skye would pick up on such emotions. She seemed happy, but she felt tired, to him.

“Hey, baby,” he lifted a hand to caress her cheek as she reached him. “How did it go?”

“Pretty fascinating, actually,” she smiled up at him. “You?”

“All right. A lot easier than the Lie Detector,” he joked, making her smile.

Gordon came walking along the path to join them then, smiling at Skye, who immediately latched on and asked him to get a message to SHIELD. Gordon evaded giving her a direct refusal, saying that he’d have to ask the Elders. Which Brock suspected just meant Jiaying. She seemed to be pretty much in charge, with Gordon as her senior advisor.

“Wait,” Skye said as Gordon turned to leave, “my father and Raina - where did you take them?”

“I can’t divulge their location, just as I can’t divulge yours,” Gordon said. “But you don’t need to worry about them.” He smiled at Skye and Lincoln, nodded at Brock, and walked swiftly onwards.

“What did he mean, ask the Elders?” Skye asked.

“You’ve made a lot of people afraid, Skye,” Lincoln said sombrely. “Afraid our secret won’t be safe for much longer.” He looked at Brock as he spoke.

“You ready for my assessment now?” Brock said after a moment of silence. “Skye, baby, you seem tired. Why don’t you go and rest?”

“I think I will,” she stifled a yawn, smiled up at him. “Wait until you see Lincoln’s power, it’s _cool_.”

He smiled and kissed her brow tenderly, watched as she headed back up the path towards their room. Turned to Lincoln.

“Well, shall we?”

“Certainly. This way, please.”

Lincoln was quiet as they walked down a trail which terminated at a spot which seemed to be a designated viewpoint for a spectacular snowcapped mountain. Brock couldn’t see a lot of point, really. Almost everywhere in Afterlife had a spectacular view. And then he realised that if this was the designated ‘power testing’ spot, it probably made a lot of sense, actually. It was distant enough from the buildings not to risk any of the village’s other inhabitants if someone lost control.

“Best view in the house,” Lincoln said cheerfully as they stopped.

Brock didn’t reply, just stood looking at the mountain for a few moments before turning back to Lincoln and raising a brow.

“Not the chatty sort are you?” Lincoln looked a little intimidated, which was the way Brock wanted it. While he knew it would never even occur to Skye to play around on him, he’d seen the way the blond looked at her. He didn’t blame Lincoln; Skye was beautiful enough to make any man look, but he did want to make very sure the younger man knew that looking was all he was permitted to do.

“Skye talks enough for both of us,” Brock said wryly.

Lincoln grinned and nodded. “She’s very spooked and scared, though,” he said earnestly. “And I do understand. Change is frightening, and our powers can be difficult to control. When I first came here, I almost burned down the whole place.”

“Fire powers?” Brock asked.

Lincoln shook his head. “Static electricity.” He held up his hands, pressed them together in front of him, and moved them slowly apart. Blue-white energy crackled between them. “When I came out of the mist, every cell in my body had a different electrical charge. I felt like I was burning from the inside out.”

Brock’s fingers lifted involuntarily to touch his eyes. “My eyes felt like they were burning up,” he admitted.

“I learned to manipulate and control it,” Lincoln said, “and you will too.” He let the electricity crackle out, lowered his hands. “Will you tell me about your power?”

Slowly, Brock nodded. “I don’t think mine’s like yours. It seems to be based on light, not electricity. When - when I lost control of it, a white light burst out of my eyes, things exploded.”

Lincoln nodded, interested. “Only white light?”

“Yes,” Brock blinked. “Why?”

“I was wondering, since you’re soulmates, why your power is different from Skye’s. She makes things tremor, vibrate. That’s about finding the frequency of vibration, changing it, right?”

Brock nodded in agreement. “Yeah, if you think about it in physics terms, I suppose.”

“What if yours is about frequency, too? More specifically, about wavelengths - wavelengths of _light_. Right now, without any control over it, you’re just emitting all the wavelengths, like sunlight - white light. But if you can learn to _tune_ your gift, you could _choose_ what to emit. Ultra-violet, infra-red, maybe even microwaves or X-rays. Lasers.”

Brock tilted his head slightly, putting some real thought into considering the younger man’s words. “You could be right,” he said after a moment. “If it were _just_ light, it wouldn’t cause things to smash or shatter. But if it includes microwaves or something like that, it could well cause things to explode…”

Lincoln nodded with a small smile. “We’ll have to do some experimenting, but I’m pretty sure that you can’t do a ton of damage to the side of a mountain. We’ll just have to figure out some way to measure and analyse exactly what wavelengths you’re emitting.” He frowned to himself. “We could use a diffraction spectrograph for the visible light, but for the others - hmm, that’s a bit tricky…”

“Pity our friend Fitz isn’t here, he’d figure it out in a hot minute,” Brock said. “He’s an engineer. Super smart.” He couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with SHIELD, why the hell Bobbi had been with Tomàs Calderon trying to take him and Skye in - but he also knew that their only way in or out of Afterlife right now was Gordon, and that neither he nor Skye was going anywhere unless and until they were permitted to do so. Doing as they were asked and generally behaving themselves was probably the quickest way to their goal of getting the hell out of here and getting back to their friends so they could find out what the hell had happened.

“Maybe we’ll be able to consult with him sometime,” Lincoln said politely but evasively, and Brock nodded, unsurprised.

“Sure.” He looked across at the mountain.

“Give it a try,” Lincoln suggested. “You haven’t tried to use your power since you woke up here, have you?”

“No. It’s not something - I haven’t exactly had control over it. It just happened, when I got stressed or angry, or when Skye did.”

That made Lincoln blink. “A downside to the soulbond, I suppose,” he murmured.

“The only one I’ve yet found.” Skye was asleep, Brock could tell. He hesitated, and then shrugged. “Hopefully I don’t have to be angry to use it.” He took a few deep breaths, focussing and centring himself, and then looked at the mountain opposite. Picked a snow-covered tree - just in case he did set it on fire, the snow would hopefully put it out before it could spread.

Nothing happened. He frowned, tried to focus his vision.

“It has to come from all the way inside you,” Lincoln said quietly beside him. “Deep down. You have to tap into your emotions consciously, use them to do what needs to be done.”

That - was going to be tricky. All of Brock’s life experience, all of his training had taught him to bury his emotions deep; only since meeting Skye had he really allowed himself to _feel_.

_Skye. Of course_. She was the key; she was _always_ the key. Taking another deep breath, he reached down deep into himself and chose a buried memory - the pain and rage he had felt when he found out that Skye had been shot by Ian Quinn.

A beam of blazingly white light flashed out from his eyes and the hapless, far-distant tree exploded into a million shards of charred timber.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Lincoln said, shocked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Well, Lincoln, be careful what you ask for...**
> 
>  
> 
> **For those of you've asked about Brock being Cyclops, here is your answer. Crossbones in the comics had an ability to focus laser beams from a disc he projected in front of his face; we chose to take that power and mix it up with that of Cyclops, adding a couple of little twists so that it is, in fact, related to Skye's, being about frequencies of light rather than vibration, though. And no, he won't need to wear his visor any more. Like Skye's, his powers were stabilised by Lincoln's efforts at Afterlife.**
> 
>  


	44. She's My Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That awkward family dinner happens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episode 16 and 17, and uses portions of dialogue from these episodes._
> 
> Sorry there haven't been any images in the last couple of chapters, guys, I (oz) have been INSANELY busy! Promise I'll make up for it with some yummy new manips soon!

[ ](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/greyscale%201_zpsvauqdavb.png.html)

“Where is she?” Skye demanded, suddenly very certain that Raina was indeed in Afterlife. The traitorous bitch. Ignoring Lincoln’s shout of her name, she lunged to her feet and ran outside, mentally calling for Brock. He’d gone for a long walk while she and Lincoln talked, muttering about having been cooped up and needing to stretch his muscles. She felt his alarm at her agitation, but he was some distance away and she wanted to see Raina _now_.

Skye had her suspicions about where Raina might be, and she was proved correct when she flung open the door to the other building similar to the one she and Brock occupied.

“Skye,” Raina’s face was hideously transformed. Traces of the elfin beauty she’d once possessed were still there, in the large eyes, the high cheekbones - but those eyes now glowed weirdly yellow and the cheekbones were adorned, as was the rest of her face, with rows of sharp thorns.

Skye would not pity her. She would _not_. Raina was the reason Skye and Brock had ended up in that never-to-be-sufficiently-damned Temple when the Diviner opened, the reason for everything that had happened to them since.

Lincoln was trying to pull her away, but Skye would not be moved. Not until she’d dealt with the threat Raina posed, once and for all, because Raina was even more lethal now, her whole body a weapon. There were two SHIELD agents who’d bled out in the dark tunnels under San Juan to testify to that fact.

She fully intended to kill Raina. And Raina seemed to be quite glad of the idea, not resisting at all. It wasn’t until a scarred, but still beautiful woman, with an air of command so strong that Skye found herself instantly deferring to her, came in and separated them that Skye was willing to listen.

Brock watched from a concealed spot as Jiaying led Skye away, Lincoln following a few minutes later. Skye had been so agitated he hadn’t been able to soothe her, not without being physically present, and despite running back up the mountain paths at top speed - he’d been investigating the possibility of leaving Afterlife on foot, of course - he hadn’t arrived until the confrontation was over.

_Raina_. He looked at the small house again - slipped quietly closer.

“ _You_ ,” she said as the door closed behind him.

“Me.” He examined her closely, walking around her slowly, wary of her. Was she quicker than she’d once been? Raina had never been a fighter, that he knew. She’d battled with her wits and her beauty, not her fists.

“Do you plan to kill me now?”

She seemed almost eager, Brock thought. _Too_ eager. He spied shards of a smashed mirror in a frame above a dresser. _Ah_.

“I think it’s more of a punishment for you to live, isn’t it, Raina? To remain as you are now, to suffer the stares of pity that would once have been admiring looks.”

She hissed at him. “Bastard.”

“I am,” he agreed, and then dropped his voice to a low, harsh warning. “Stay out of my way, Raina. And stay away from Skye. I can make you suffer far, far more than you already have.”

Raina made no reply. Only looked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock found Skye in their rooms. She was calm now, reflective seemingly. “I met Jiaying, that woman you told me about,” she told him when he entered. “She’s going to be my guide - my trainer.”

“I see.” Brock took his boots off, set them by the door, walked over to take a seat on the bed. “Did she tell you what her gift is, is it similar to yours?” Lincoln had already told Brock that he’d been requested to keep training Brock, since electricity and light had a good many commonalities in physics terms and there was no one else available with a gift even remotely similar.

“She didn’t say,” Skye shook her head.

“Hm.” He watched as she paced back and forth, but it was a slow, meditative pacing, not agitated. “I think she’s a very dangerous woman,” he said at last. He didn’t want to tell Skye about Jiaying and Gordon’s conversation, that Jiaying thought Brock was a problem and that she would have ordered him put down if not for his bond with Skye. “Be careful what you say and do around her.”

“Really?” Skye blinked, surprised. “I liked her. I felt, I don’t know - a kinship with her, somehow. Perhaps her power is like mine, that might be why.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Brock said with a noncommittal shrug. “Just, watch your step with her. I think she’s pretty much in charge around here. And we already know these people are dangerous.”

“ _These people_ ,” Skye scoffed, “they’re _our_ people, Brock! They’re like _us_!” Her eyes were shining with enthusiastic fervor, and Brock thought, in a very private corner of his mind,

_Oh, shit_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_My mother_. Skye sat staring at Jiaying, open-mouthed. _She’s my MOTHER_.

“My sweet angel,” Jiaying said tearfully. “I thought, if I couldn’t find you, maybe I could help protect others, so I came here.” She gestured around, looked back at Skye. “But listen. Right now, this has to be our secret.”

“What do you mean, secret? Why?” Skye asked, still stunned by the revelation. _Cal said she was dead. He said Whitehall cut her… to pieces…_ she looked at the scars on Jiaying’s still-beautiful face. _Oh my God_.

“I’ll have to tell Brock,” she said, barely having heard Jiaying’s reply. “He’s my soulmate, we have a very deep bond. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

Jiaying looked decidedly displeased, but she nodded. “I understand.” She took a deep breath. “Your father and I - we were soulmates.”

“I don’t understand,” Skye whispered.

“What Whitehall did to me broke the bond, and he _erased_ the mark. The part of my skin where the mark was,” she touched her forearm, “that part was cut away. Your father’s mark faded. We couldn’t re-bond.”

Skye’s hand flew to her mouth in horror as she remembered those awful days in quarantine before she and Brock had been able to recreate their bond. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago, Skye. Your father became - what he is today. He was no longer the man I’d shared a bond with. We grew apart, inevitably. I had - made myself accept that you were gone. That we would not find you. He could not share that belief.”

_But he DID find me, in the end_. Skye didn’t say it aloud, though. She didn’t want to upset Jiaying - her _mother_! - right after they’d just been reunited. Unwillingly, she was beginning to feel a great deal of sympathy for Cal, though. The loss of his daughter, the agony of a soulbond ripped asunder - then finding out his soulmate was somehow alive and being unable to repair their bond - well, she suspected it might have driven any man more than a little insane.

Even Brock, as strong as he was and as much as she loved him, had already insisted that he’d only survive losing her long enough to destroy whoever had taken her. If something happened to erase their bond, he’d probably be just as bad. And though Cal still had a driving goal - finding his daughter - twenty-six years was a long time to search.

“Alright,” Skye said after a moment to consider. “Other than Brock, I won’t tell anyone. But… I’d like to know more about why. It can be later, it’s fine. But I… I just…”

Seeming to sense what Skye needed, Jiaying moved closer and Skye leaned against her mother as gentle arms held her close. “Shhh. It’s alright now. Everything will be fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye met Brock in their room after their respective training times. She sat on the bed, fiddling with her phone even though they had no signal up in the mountains. It was better than doing nothing.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Brock greeted her as he returned. She smiled at him as he sat beside her. “You’ve had quite a day,” he said quietly, not quite commenting on her emotional upheavals that she’d eventually made the effort to shield from him. “Want to talk about it?”

Skye nodded and leaned into his side. “I… yeah. It’s just… it’s crazy, and I don’t… it’s not something I ever expected.”

“What’s not?” he asked patiently, feeling how wound up inside Skye _still_ was.

“Jiaying… she’s my mom.”

“WHAT?” Brock pulled back to look at Skye, but she was being perfectly serious.

“She is… was, rather, Cal’s soulmate. My mother. Whatever Whitehall did to her, it _erased_ her soulmark. They were never able to bond again.” Skye’s voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed her mixed emotions and her mind was a jumble of feelings that he couldn’t decipher any better than she could.

“That’s… definitely not what I was expecting to hear.” Brock pulled her nearer, knowing just how close they had come in the past to losing each other - between Ward, Whitehall and that damned temple.

“Me either,” Skye agreed quietly as she pressed close. “She said that they searched everywhere for years, and one day she woke up and didn’t recognize herself. She thought she had to let go, to accept that I was gone. So she came here to try to take care of others of our people instead.”

While he listened to her, Brock quietly took a little time to hide away his suspicions about Jiaying in a place that Skye wouldn’t hear them. He knew that she wouldn’t listen at the moment. So he was going to have to keep an eye out, for both their sakes. There was something not right here, an insistent pinging on his internal threat radar, and he has a very uneasy feeling that this was not going to have the happy ending that Skye so obviously wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock followed Skye and Jiaying down the hall, several paces back so the women could talk quietly. It gave Jiaying the illusion of privacy, though Brock still got the gist of the conversation from Skye’s mind anyway.

“Are you sure this is the right thing?” Skye asked in a low voice. “If this is some weird kind of test…”

“It’s not a test,” Jiaying insisted. “This is personal… a debt I owe your father. And if you trust me in this, I’ll be eternally grateful.”

“He’s a monster,” Skye answered, biting her lower lip nervously.

“He was _good_ once,” Jiaying said softly. “Cal lost himself to a promise he made me out of love. Now he’s made good on it.”

“That shouldn’t mean all is forgiven,” Skye insisted.

“No,” Jiaying agreed quietly. “But he never gave up on you. He deserves something for that. Just one dinner, then you never have to see him again. I’ll have him taken away from here.”

Brock watched Jiaying speak with Skye, and he caught a glimmer of something as she spoke. Almost like she _wanted_ an excuse to send Cal away. That she wanted Skye to want him gone. His experience with Jiaying was definitely harder, harsher than this softer side she was showing to Skye. He wondered if she was being genuine or if it was all a front. He couldn’t tell yet, but he was planning to find out.

He followed along silently as Jiaying opened the door to the room where Cal waited. He listened quietly as the older man stumbled through his thank you and almost apology. He stepped up beside Skye as she interrupted.

“I learned who my mother was today, and… she taught me things. I’ve never had that, before.”

“It’s all I ever really wanted for you,” Cal told her gently, and Skye smiled a little.

“This is Brock, my soulmate,” Skye said, introducing the two men. Brock reached out and Cal shook his hand. “I thought I should bring him, too… so we can all get to know each other.”

Cal nodded. “I’d like that. Please,” he gestured them towards the table. Cal moved to seat Skye, and Brock just smiled gently at his soulmate as she let him. Brock did the same for Jiaying, more out of politeness than anything, but it made Skye happy. He knew she needed this, a quiet family dinner, so he kept his thoughts and suspicions to himself.

“Um, Cal,” Jiaying said, looking to move along conversation. “Skye said that her soulmate told her when she was born, but that she’d like to know more about the day she was born…”

“Oh, I know that story!” Cal’s eyes lit up, and he began to excitedly describe his memory. “It was a gorgeous spring night, a big moon in the sky…”

Skye’s eyes met Brock’s and he smiled gently at the pure happiness dancing in her dark gaze. No, he would definitely not say or do anything to ruin this moment for her. As Cal talked, though, he felt Jiaying looking at him, and when he turned his head to glance at her, there was a hard, disapproving look on her face. For a long moment they stared at each other and then Brock smiled and inclined his head very slightly before turning his attention back to Cal.

Cal, at least, seemed to be warming up to him. Treated him with civility, tending towards outright friendliness when Brock told them about how he first met Skye, how he couldn’t stop staring at her even before he had the faintest idea that she might be his soulmate.

“She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen,” Brock said softly, meeting Skye’s eyes across the table. “I still can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Cal smiled at that. “I’m glad Daisy has you,” he said, suddenly and quite sincerely. “It was the one comfort that I had, all those years searching, knowing that somewhere out in the world her Brock was searching for her too, that if he found her he’d love her just as much as we did.”

“He does love me, and I love him too,” Skye assured Cal - though over the course of the evening it had gotten harder to keep herself from thinking of him as ‘dad’ even though it still felt strange to her. “Brock was so patient with me; I had no idea my name was Daisy, and even though it was my handwriting on him it was still so hard to believe. But as I fell in love with him, I discovered that I wanted it to be true. And it is.” Skye smiled lovingly at Brock, reaching out across the table to take his hand. When her eyes returned to Cal, he was smiling almost as brightly. “We have such a strong bond, and it’s saved our lives more than once.”

Cal turned his happy smile on Brock. “Then I guess I owe you thanks for taking care of my little girl.”

Brock returned Cal’s smile, relaxing just a touch as the older man’s expression showed none of the obsession or madness that they’d seen in him before. “I always will,” he promised; it was easy enough to share the sentiment, given how many times he’d silently promised that to himself and to Skye.

“Hey,” Skye broke in, her tone teasing. “Not exactly helpless, here. Especially now.”

Jiaying’s eyes glittered as she studied Skye, cool and assessing. “Yes, she’s doing quite well at getting her power under control. I think that sometime soon she’ll be able to use it to defend herself.”

Both Cal and Skye blinked at her, and Brock frowned just slightly before smoothing his expression. But then Skye tentatively smiled at the praise in her mother’s words if not her tone. When Cal smiled, his expression was full of pride. “I knew you could handle it, Daisy. I’m so proud of you.”

Skye’s smile broadened at that, a flush of warmth spreading through her. The only people who’d ever made her feel like that before were Coulson and Brock.

“I’m glad you’re getting on so well with my parents,” she said happily to Brock as they walked back to their room after the dinner.

“I understand your dad a lot better now,” Brock admitted. “Losing his soulmate and his child in one fell swoop like that - I only have to think about how I’d feel if I lost you, baby.” His arm tightened around her.

“You won’t lose me. You heard Mom, I’m almost at the point of controlling my power!”

“You already did, Skye. That bullet would have hit me if you hadn’t stopped it,” he reminded her gently.

She shuddered at the thought. “I might have killed that Calderon guy, though,” it was a small, lost voice, and Brock was reminded, yet again, that she was a very new field agent.

“It was him or me, baby, and I’m very glad you chose me,” deliberately he made his tone humorous and the touch of his mind on hers gentle and loving.

“I will never _not_ choose you,” Skye said fiercely, reaching up to kiss him as they entered their room.

He didn’t need to tell her that she was and always would be his first priority. He’d made that clear long ago when he chose to turn against HYDRA for her sake. When he went rogue from SHIELD to kill Ian Quinn, and every single thing he’d done since. So instead he kicked the door shut behind them, pulling her close and returning her kiss hungrily.

“Mmm,” Skye shivered against Brock as his hands roamed down to her ass, lifting her and grinding her against his arousal.

They hadn’t made love since waking up in Afterlife. Skye had still been feeling weird and tired for the last couple of days after Lincoln’s treatments to balance her new body chemistry. But right now, she felt wide awake and incredibly happy. She had her _family_. Her parents, her soulmate - everything she’d always dreamed of.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Yes, another smuthanger.**
> 
> **So Skye still got her family dinner, and Cal is warming up to Brock. At least she’ll have this memory, for the future.**


	45. Daisy Johnson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock's concerns about Jiaying increase, and he realises that he needs to watch out for Raina too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episode 18, and may use portions of dialogue from the episode. This chapter is NSFW (because smuthanger)._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/greyscale%202_zpslt4brw4n.png.html)

“I love you,” Skye gasped out between heated kisses, scrabbling frantically at Brock’s clothes. He was more than happy to peel them off, helping her to remove her own, lifting her and carrying her over to the bed. Laying her down gently, he eased down beside her, slipped his hand between her eagerly parted legs.

“You wet for me, love?”

Closing her eyes, Skye sighed and shifted against his hand, her fingers walking their way down across his muscled stomach. “Always.”

His teeth closing unexpectedly on her nipple made her gasp and shudder, arching up into the bite as he tugged gently, and then soothed the sharp pain with his tongue. Her hand closed around his cock, slid up and down slowly.

“I want to taste you,” they both said simultaneously, and then laughed.

“I’m sure we can manage that. Come sit on my face, baby,” Brock rolled to his back, licked her slick off his fingers. “Mm, you taste so good.” The words were delivered in a husky growl that sent pleasurable shivers through Skye’s whole body, and she hastily climbed over him, forced by his broad shoulders to spread her knees very wide - which was just the way Brock liked it. His tongue was swiping long strokes through Skye’s cleft before she’d even braced her hands on the bed and leaned down to mouth at his cock.

Skye gasped, struggled to focus, but the mindlink they shared made it even more difficult, because she could feel Brock’s blissful happiness at making her feel good in addition to the messages her body was sending to her brain. She rested her forehead against his stomach for a moment.

“Brock,” she mumbled, felt him chuckle against her.

“Distracted, my love? It’s all right.” He was more than happy just pleasuring her; didn’t need her mouth on him to enjoy himself.

The temporary respite she got when he took his mouth off her to speak, though, enabled Skye to clear her head just enough, and soon she was joining in enthusiastically, her tongue curling around the thick, flushed head of Brock’s arousal, taking him into her mouth to see how much of his cock she could get down her throat, listening happily to his throaty moans and contributing plenty of her own as his tongue and lips worked her clit.

It wasn’t long before they both reached a peak, Skye’s tremors driving Brock over the edge. She swallowed down the hot spurts of semen that jetted into her throat, groaning around him as her body shook. Neither of them let up with their attentions, though, Brock gentling the strokes of his tongue as Skye became briefly too sensitive, she licking him clean and then proceeding to suck him back to full arousal again. In short order he was pulling her off, lifting her easily and sitting up, pulling her down onto his lap with her back against his chest, filling her with one deep, torturously slow thrust.

Skye cried out and arched back against him, his strong hands on her breasts squeezing and rolling her nipples just up to the edge of pain, his hot mouth sucking a bruise into her neck, stubble rasping tender flesh. She didn’t try to urge him faster, knowing he’d take his time in a mood like this. She just circled her hips in his grasp and enjoyed the groan it drew from him; she felt the vibration against her skin where his lips refused to leave her throat.

Brock guided her hips with his hands, teasing her with the slow, teasing glide of his cock into her body. She whimpered and mewled, her head falling back onto his shoulder as their pleasure built slowly between them.

“Play with your clit,” he rasped into her ear, voice heavy with command. “But slow. No coming yet.”

She moaned again at his words. Without opening her eyes, her hand slid up her thigh until her fingers found their way to her sensitive nub. She touched it softly, circling around it; obeying him implicitly, knowing that he could feel everything she could and that he’d know if she even thought about trying to “cheat.”

Brock groaned as he watched her fingers move slowly and parted his legs just enough to force hers wider as she sat on him. “Good girl,” he rumbled, and she gasped. “So fucking hot.”

“So I only get to play with myself when you can see?” she teased, her voice a husky moan. The memory flashed between them of the night in the cabin when she’d started without him and he’d spanked her for it.

“Only when I can participate,” he corrected her with a nip against the smooth skin of her throat. “Since you know fucking well what it does to me, that I can _feel_ you and that it’s damned distracting.”

She pouted, but couldn’t keep it up long as he thrust hard into her, making her moan again. “Please, Brock, I’m gettin’ close,” she choked out.

“I know,” it was a low rumble in his chest. “Don’t try to reach for it. Just - let it happen.” He was barely moving inside her now, just slight twitches of his hips. “Relax into it.”

Relaxing right now seemed impossible; she was strung so tightly. But she tried to slow her breathing, focussed on softening her body, on letting each muscle go lax until she was limp against him, her finger just pressing lightly against her clit. And then - it happened.

“That’s it,” Brock breathed against Skye’s neck. “There. You feel that?”

She could; it felt like the tide coming in, waves breaking over her slowly at first, then faster and higher even though neither of them were even moving. Each slow exhale came out with a moan now and she could hear Brock making the same sounds, his cock pulsing slowly inside her as their mutual orgasm went on and on and _on_ , longer than she could ever have thought possible.

“Fuuuuuck,” Brock hissed out at last, collapsing limply to the bed, Skye still held close to him, their bodies still joined. She made an incoherent noise in reply, and for long minutes they just lay close, eyes closed, listening to the sound of each other’s heart beating.

At long last Brock nuzzled a kiss into Skye’s hair and slipped from her gently, reaching for a blanket and covering her with it as she shivered suddenly with the loss of his body heat. She rolled over to smile up at him, her eyes soft and loving, and he caressed her cheek gently, neither of them in need of words to tell each other how they felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Daisy,” Jiaying entered the room without knocking, and immediately whipped around again. “Oh - I’m - I’m sorry!”

“Skye’s in the shower,” Brock unhurriedly buttoned his pants. “Can I help you, ma’am?” He refused to be embarrassed when Jiaying’s poor manners were to blame. Seriously, they were soulmates, what did Skye’s mom _think_ they did in a shared room early in the morning? She was lucky she hadn’t walked in on their lovemaking.

“I need to speak with her,” Jiaying said quietly, risking a glance around and seeing Brock pulling on his shirt. “I apologise for barging in.” There was no blush on her scarred face, and Brock couldn’t help but wonder if she’d done it deliberately. Creepy thought. She looked the same age as he was, or younger, though she had to be much older if it was true that Whitehall had held her captive during World War Two.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. Is it urgent? She does like a long shower, but I can let her know through our link if you need.”

“No - well, yes, a little. I thought she would want to say goodbye to Cal.”

Several things fell into place for Brock. “Ah. I wondered. So last night was something of a farewell dinner. Does Cal know you’re sending him away?”

Jiaying gave him the first look of respect he’d received from her so far. “No. His reaction might be - unfortunate.”

“So might Skye’s,” Brock pointed out. “Last night was the closest thing she’s ever felt to having a real family. And now you’re breaking it up.”

Jiaying didn’t answer that. After a moment she said abruptly; “Why don’t you call her Daisy? It must be on your body, you would have waited your whole adult life for her…”

“When and if she lets me know that she would like me to use the name Daisy, I will,” Brock shrugged again. “Skye is the name she chose for herself; I think it suits her. It doesn’t matter what name she uses. She is the only thing that matters to me in this world; her wish is my command.”

Any other mother in the world would have looked happy to hear a declaration like that. Jiaying looked as though he’d deliberately said something to offend her.

The shower in the adjacent bathroom shut off, and Brock sent Skye a quick mental alert not to walk out naked, as he knew she would quite likely do, utterly comfortable around him as she was.

Emerging from the bathroom fully dressed a couple of minutes later, Skye smiled at Jiaying. “Good morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, Daisy.” Jiaying smiled back, glanced at Brock as though she expected him to leave. He folded his arms and smiled at her. She’d learn soon enough that he and Skye came as a set. After a moment, Jiaying firmed her lips and turned away, apparently deciding to ignore him. She drew Skye’s arm into hers, smiled at her.

Brock listened quietly, without interrupting, as Jiaying and Skye talked. He saw Jiaying glance at him when Skye protested Cal’s being sent away. Well, he’d warned her.

“We’re taking him _home_ ,” Jiaying tried to reassure Skye.

“It doesn’t matter,” Skye said, visibly distressed. “He’ll feel abandoned, and people will get hurt.”

“Those people aren’t my concern,” Jiaying said coldly, and Brock thought, _Aha, now we’re hearing the truth. You really don’t give a shit about anyone outside your own little enclave._

“Well, they’re ours!” Skye said hotly, looking at Brock, who nodded for Jiaying’s benefit. “We’re SHIELD agents!”

Jiaying tried to mollify Skye; to no avail. Brock could have told her it wouldn’t work. While Skye’s safety was his first priority, he too didn’t want to see an enraged Cal let loose on an unsuspecting civilian population.

“Let me go with him,” Skye begged. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll soften the blow - let him know that I’ll visit, that he hasn’t lost us forever.”

Jiaying appeared to consider it. “I cannot let you both leave Afterlife at the same time,” she glanced at Brock. “Neither of you are fully trained yet.”

_You just want to make damned sure Skye comes back_ , Brock thought cynically. Aloud, he said “Cal wouldn’t really want me around anyway, and I know that Skye can take care of herself. And that Gordon can collect her at a moment’s notice if necessary.”

Jiaying agreed to that stipulation. Brock followed her when she left the room, telling Skye he was going to collect some food for them.

“I understand why you want me to stay here when Skye goes,” he said quietly, “but if any harm comes to her when I’m not there to protect her, there is nothing in this world that will save you from my anger.”

Jiaying stared at him for a moment, and then inclined her head slightly. “What would you have me do?”

“Have someone keep a real close eye on them. If Cal figures out what’s going on, he might even strike out at Skye, and she wouldn’t want to hurt her father. Send someone who can keep her safe.”

Jiaying considered for a moment. “Lincoln?” she suggested. “You’ve seen his offensive capabilities, and he’s not afraid to use them. He likes Skye, he’ll look after her.”

Brock agreed. It wasn’t until after they’d gone their separate ways that it occurred to him that Jiaying might be trying to make him jealous, might be trying to match Skye and Lincoln up, which was a completely insane idea. Even if Lincoln was attracted to Skye, she had nothing more than feelings of friendship for the young Inhuman, Brock was well aware of that. _What the hell is Jiaying’s game? Something here really doesn’t add up._

He suspected he’d better be pretty careful of his personal safety whenever Skye wasn’t around. If he should happen to suffer an unfortunate ‘accident’ - well, Jiaying might think that would play into her plans, whatever they were, nicely. She couldn’t know the depth of their bond, couldn’t have any idea that losing him would destroy Skye, just as the reverse was true. How could she _not_ understand, though? Losing his soulmate and child had driven Cal to madness. Was Jiaying insane too, just in a less obvious way?

He didn’t bother to hide his concerns from Skye. It felt too much like keeping secrets. And she knew very well that he felt the same way she did about Cal being cut adrift. Right now, she was too worried about that to delve into his concerns about Jiaying, but he suspected it was a conversation they were going to have to have when she got back.

They weren’t telling Skye that Lincoln would be shadowing her, because Brock suspected she’d be annoyed that they didn’t think she could take care of herself. Gordon was going to pop back and collect Lincoln after dropping Skye and Cal off in Milwaukee.

“You let any harm come to her,” Brock warned as he and Lincoln waited for Gordon’s return, “and you’d better spend the rest of your life running, boy.”

“Yessir,” Lincoln nodded, quite respectfully. “I’ll look after her if there’s any trouble. I promise.”

Gordon reappeared just then. “Well, come on,” he said to Lincoln, “haven’t got all day.”

Brock watched as the two men disappeared in a blue flash. Sighing and shaking his head, he turned to walk away. He intended to spend the day in a practice area he and Lincoln had set up, refining his abilities with his eyes. Something made him turn his head to the side, though, and he saw a shadowy figure backing away around the corner of a building.

_Jiaying_ , was his first thought, and then he realised, _no_. _It was Raina._

_And there’s something else very odd_. With a sigh and shake of his head, Brock headed to the practice area. He didn’t intend to do too much today, wanting to keep his mind clear so that he could focus on his bond with Skye, would be able to tell if she needed him. He knew very well that she planned to call Coulson if at all possible, find out what the hell was going on with SHIELD and warn them that Cal was going to be on the loose.

His practice was going reasonably well when he became aware that Skye had managed to make her call to Coulson. He blinked for a moment as he realized that her pickpocketing skills were almost as good as his own. Then he chuckled, thinking _good work_ to her.

A little while later, he heard her think, _Daisy Johnson._ When he asked, she told him, _That would’ve been my name. If…_

_Wouldn’t have mattered,_ he assured her silently. _I’d have loved you just as much as Daisy as I do now with my Skye._

He knew his thought made her smile, but she turned her thoughts back to her conversation with her father before her distraction could be noticed.

A step on the wooden floor nearby made Brock startle out of his near-meditative state, and he spun swiftly. His eyes widened as he saw the hooded figure freeze just inside the door.

“Raina.”

“Agent Rumlow.” She made no move to come further into the room, and he stood, arms folded, looking at her.

“Well?” Brock said finally. “I’m assuming you came to find me for a reason.”

She was staring at him, her weird golden eyes searching his face. “I saw you in my dreams last night,” she said finally.

“Forgive me if I’m not flattered, but I’m not interested in anyone except my soulmate,” Brock said dryly.

Raina’s mouth tightened. “Ah yes, the lovely _Daisy_.” There was venom in her voice. “Tell me, how did she retain her beauty and I got _this_?” she gestured a spined hand at her face.

“Maybe it’s something to do with the outer shell reflecting inner beauty,” Brock said coldly. “Don’t think that I’ve forgotten how you sold Agent Simmons out to HYDRA, Raina. Or how you helped Ward take Skye off the Bus. The only reason I haven’t killed you yet is that I’m a guest here and it would be an abuse of our hosts’ hospitality if they had to scrub your blood off the walls.”

Raina stood still, watching him warily. “I understand your anger,” she said, “but I was doing what I felt I had to, at the time.”

“Yeah. How’s that working out for you, Raina? You just _had to_ take the Obelisk down into the temple, and yet you don’t seem too happy with the result. Don’t you dare blame Skye for…” he stopped talking, suddenly, as he felt a sudden spike of panic from Skye. “Skye?”

“Rumlow?” Raina said curiously. He held a hand up to silence her, turning his concentration inwards, focussing to see through Skye’s eyes.

Frozen with fear for Skye, he could only watch as she and Lincoln fought HYDRA agents; watch as Mike Peterson appeared - and what the _hell_ was _he_ doing there? - and stare with utmost horror as he saw Coulson apparently working with _Ward_.

“Skye,” Brock whispered as Ward stepped towards her, an intent look on his face. Brock felt Skye’s revulsion, her horror; and then there was a blessed flash of blue and Gordon appeared. Scant seconds later there was another blue flash and Skye’s vision showed a view Brock knew; one barely fifty yards from where he now stood.

He almost knocked Raina down bolting out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A few folks have asked how Brock’s presence will affect what happens with Raina. Things will definitely be a bit different, but you’ll have to stay tuned to find out how. No spoilers, my dears! And yes, while Agents of SHIELD resumes again next week, we will NOT be following ANY S3 canon. We are entirely divergent from the end of S2.**
> 
>  


	46. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Skye talk to Raina, and convince Gordon to return them to SHIELD. Ward and Brock come face to face again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events in this chapter occur during Season 2, episode 19, and may use portions of dialogue from this episode._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%2018_zpsgnu2pbxd.jpg.html)

Cal had returned too, Brock realised, and was shouting angrily at Gordon. Skye saw Brock, broke away from Jiaying who had come running and was hugging her, and ran straight to him.

“Are you all right, baby?” He knew she wasn’t hurt physically beyond a couple of minor bruises from when she’d hit the floor and Lincoln had crashed down on top of her, but emotionally was another matter.

Skye’s thoughts were a chaotic jumble as she clung to him, panting with distress. The sight of Ward and Coulson in co-operation - she didn’t know what to do, what to think.

“Lincoln,” she gasped suddenly. “Where’s Lincoln?”

Cal and Jiaying were arguing heatedly, so Brock looked at Gordon. “Lincoln,” he said sharply. “You need to go get Lincoln.”

Gordon vanished. Brock did his best to tune out Cal’s shouts and Jiaying’s attempts to calm him - Brock could have told her that wouldn’t work - and focussed on Skye, stroking her hair gently, holding her close.

Gordon reappeared less than a minute later - and he was _wounded_. “It was HYDRA,” he panted, swaying on his feet, hand pressed to his wounded shoulder. “I tried stopping them, but I barely got away. They took Lincoln!”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Brock muttered.

“I saw it,” a voice said behind him, and he turned his head to see Raina, her huge yellow eyes staring right at him. “In my dreams. I saw him captured, held in a prison. I warned you!” she called to Jiaying, who firmed her lips and turned away, assisting Gordon towards the medical infirmary building. Cal followed behind, still muttering and gesticulating to himself.

Skye and Brock stared at each other. “I don’t understand why Lincoln was even there,” Skye said, clearly distressed.

“It’s my fault, baby,” Brock said with a sigh, reaching for her. She came to him willingly, leaning her head against his chest, and from the corner of his eye he saw Raina turn and walk away. “I was worried about you. I asked Jiaying to send someone to keep an eye on you; she suggested Lincoln. If I’d had any idea something like this would happen, though, I’d have insisted on going with you myself.”

Skye shook her head vehemently. “Then maybe HYDRA would have _you_. And whatever they’re doing to Lincoln - you have to know they’d do worse to you.”

He had no answer for that, since they both knew it was the truth. “We have to go get him back,” Brock said finally, voicing what they were both thinking.

“I know. But Gordon, they’re obviously tracking the way he moves somehow, there’s no other way they’d have known where to find him. Jiaying - Mom - she wouldn’t allow him to risk it. He’s too important to the Inhumans, he’s the only way in or out of Afterlife.”

Brock snorted derisively. “I call bullshit on that. It might not be easy, but there’s a way down off this mountain and a road in the valley below. Not much of one, but roads lead somewhere. They could leave without Gordon if they had to.”

“Hm,” Skye thought on that for a minute, and then shrugged. “Still. There’s no way Jiaying would allow it.”

“Then maybe he can drop us somewhere else,” Brock said, raising an eyebrow. Skye grinned as she followed his train of thought.

“And we can finally figure out what the fuck is going on with SHIELD.” Her thoughts turned dark in an instant, and Brock hugged her tightly.

“I was with you, in your mind,” he said softly, “I saw Ward.”

“What was he _doing_ there?” Skye shook her head, troubled. “Working with Phil…”

Brock had his theories, but he kept them to himself. Coulson would have panicked when he and Skye disappeared, and quite possibly he would have reached out to the one person he might have felt had a chance of tracking them down, if SHIELD had failed.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s go talk to Jiaying.”

He wasn’t surprised when Jiaying turned them down flat. Gordon was in no condition to travel right now, and she insisted that rescuing Lincoln was too dangerous anyway.

“But they will torture him. They will _kill_ him!” Skye cried, and Jiaying looked at her coldly.

“I know exactly what HYDRA is capable of doing,” she snapped, gesturing to her scarred face. “I’ve carried the memory of what they did to me for decades.”

Skye froze up, and Brock dragged her away before she got into a shouting match with Jiaying which wouldn’t end well for anyone. He took her back to their room, thinking that she could let her anger and frustration out there - but they found Raina waiting for them.

“Don’t give up hope just yet,” Raina said without preamble. “Skye can save Lincoln. I saw her do it.

“Wh-what?” Skye stared at the thorned woman.

“Raina may be having precognitive visions,” Brock said with a sigh. “Gordon and Lincoln both mentioned it.”

“I thought her gift was spinning really fast to collect gold rings,” Skye said a little spitefully, and Brock nudged her, sending a gentle reproach across the bond.

“Tell us what you saw,” he said to Raina, who seemed to have shrunk into herself.

“Maybe she’s right. What I saw doesn’t make much sense. Why would Coulson be working with Ward?”

Skye and Brock both blinked. _We weren’t speaking aloud when we talked about Coulson and Ward_ , Brock thought at Skye. _There’s no way she could know_.

“You have to go,” Raina said when neither of them spoke. “You _do_ go. Lincoln’s in a dark room with two doctors. They’re cutting into him. You find him. You’re the only one who can save him.”

“I’m not staying behind this time,” Brock said, “come on, let’s go find Gordon.” He paused, and, though he didn’t like saying it, he looked at Raina and said, “Thank you.”

She blinked at him in surprise and bowed her head silently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They didn’t have much difficulty convincing Gordon, once they caught him alone. Brock could tell the teleporter was feeling guilty for having been unable to rescue Lincoln himself. Especially with Raina there telling Gordon that it would be fine, that she’d ‘seen’ this.

“So where is it that I take them?” Gordon said finally, and Brock could hear the capitulation in his tone, “if it’s a long way from HYDRA? How is that supposed to help Lincoln?”

Raina smiled. “The big airplane. The birthplace of the new SHIELD, isn’t that right, Skye? And the place where you and Brock first met - the place where you remade your bond.”

Skye’s hand clenched on Brock’s, and he could feel her thinking, _How the hell does she know all of this?_

_Ward could have told her some of it_ , he thought back.

_Not that last part._

He didn’t have an answer for that. And they had no time to discuss it, because Gordon was nodding, reaching his hands out to them. “All right. Come on then, let’s do this before Jiaying orders me not to. We’d better hurry. Your team are preparing to move out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye hadn’t been sure how she would react to seeing Ward again. She hadn’t anticipated not being able to deal with her feelings because she had her hands very much full helping Brock tamp down his own white-hot murderous rage.

“Not now. Now now, Brock!” she clutched at his hands, narrowed the world down to just the two of them as she gazed up into his eyes. “Lincoln is the mission, remember? We have to rescue Lincoln. And Mike. They _need_ us.”

A muscle clenched spasmodically in Brock’s jaw. He tore his eyes from Skye’s, cast a glance across the room to see Ward watching them, his own jaw clenched tight. And May, a couple of steps away, her hand on the butt of her ICER.

“Right,” Brock said finally, nodding his head, managing to flatten his rage. Somehow. Burying it for later. He took a deep breath and nodded to Coulson. “Sir. I believe there’s a lot I need to brief you about - and vice versa?”

Coulson glanced at May and nodded. “We’ll have time for that. Right now, we need to get in the air. Rumlow, Skye, my office, please. Ward?”

“Director.”

“You’re going in the Cage until we need you.”

Ward actually had the gall to look indignant - at least until Brock growled out “Give me _one reason_.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So what the fuck is going on?” Brock said without preamble as the door to Coulson’s office closed. “Where’s Trip and Hunter? What’s with Bobbi coming after us, why was Tomàs Calderon with her, is he alive…”

Coulson held up both hands to stop him. “Whoa, whoa. It’s a long story.” He grinned wryly at his own understatement. “But first…” he stepped forward and surprised Skye by giving her a hug. “It’s _so good_ to see you. _Both_ of you.”

There was no time to do a lot more than give each other the high points. Too soon, May alerted them that it was time to meet in the old command centre, and they went down to meet the others. Skye really hadn’t had time to greet Fitz and Jemma yet, embraced them both gladly; was a little surprised when both of them demanded and got hugs from Brock as well. Though she felt his warm regard for both of them and realised that he viewed them as like the little brother and sister he’d never had. She smiled, leaning against him. Fitz and Jemma were the siblings _both_ of them had never had.

May came in then with Ward, and Brock had to take deep breaths, control his rage. He could feel the heat wanting to build behind his eyes, had to concentrate to make sure no light escaped his control. Skye helped, her physical and mental touch soothing him as he tried to tune out what Ward was saying. But when the other man started talking about how he didn’t regret having to _put down_ loyal SHIELD agents or dropping Fitz and Jemma into the ocean nearly as much as he regretted having lost the trust of the team, Brock exploded.

He was across the room before another poisonous word could come out of Ward’s mouth, before Fitz could shrink any further into himself, before the tears he could see trembling on Jemma’s eyelashes began to fall. Powerful fingers clenching on Ward’s throat, he lifted the other man into the air, glaring into his eyes.

“Shut. Your. Filthy. Mouth. You _pathetic_ excuse for a human being. Do you even _hear_ yourself? You’re talking about your _attempted murder_ of two of the people in this room, and your _actual_ murder of some of their friends, and saying that the thing _you_ feel worst about is that _they_ don’t want to be your friends any more?”

Ward choked, his toes dangling off the floor, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at Rumlow’s unbreakable grip.

“If I _ever_ hear you speak a word on any personal topic to any of the people in this room ever again, I will rip you to pieces with my bare hands.” He clenched his fingers to show how very possible that was. His fingernails, short though they were, pierced flesh and blood began to trickle down Ward’s throat in a steady stream.

“Agent Rumlow,” Coulson said quietly.

Brock flung Ward to the floor in disgust. “My apologies, Director. I couldn’t help myself.”

“I was about to say, _well said_ , actually.”

May failed to suppress a snort of laughter. Fitz stood up a little straighter, Jemma gave a dark little smile, and even without looking at her, Brock could feel Skye radiating waves of loving approval at him.

“Stop talking to people, Ward,” Coulson said quietly. “Or I’ll let Agent Rumlow do whatever he likes with you.” He turned away from the coughing man on the floor, deliberately turning his back, and placed his hands on the conference table. “Right. The mission. There will be two teams. Rumlow, Skye and Simmons on rescue and medical. Take Ward with you.” He smiled at Brock. “I have no doubt that Agent Rumlow will keep him in line.”

Brock smiled back, showing his teeth. Felt Skye’s small hand slip into his.

“Fitz and I will break into missile defence and gather intel. May’s with us for firepower.”

“You’re not on rescue, sir?” Skye said, surprised.

“Let me handle job assignments, Skye,” Phil said gently.

Brock squeezed her hand, silently sending her a message. _You weren’t listening closely enough, sweetheart. He said_ intel _. He’s looking for something and he doesn’t want Ward to know._

_Of course_ , Skye sent back, mentally berating herself. Aloud, she said “Of course, sir, you’re the boss!”

Privately, as they were all loading on to the quinjet in preparation for the mission, she said very quietly in Phil’s ear;

“Are you likely to need any hacking assistance, sir?”

Phil smiled. “Thank you, Skye, but no. I believe I have everything I need.” He showed her his hand, and she grinned, recognising a USB key she’d made him a while ago with some hacking worms on it. Phil gave her a subtle wink before slipping the key back into his pocket.

Brock went up front to co-pilot with May. She was a better pilot than he was, but she admitted (grudgingly) that his superhuman reflexes might come in handy with the tricky maneuver they planned to try and pull off. Before he belted in, though, he pointed at Ward, sitting alone like the pariah he was.

“Keep your mouth shut. You won’t enjoy it if I have to come back there and shut it for you.”

Brock noticed the dark satisfaction in Jemma’s smile again as he turned around. There was something eager in the look, something _hungry_ , and he paused, searching her face for a moment, but then it was gone and she gave him one of her bright smiles. He was the one who’d taught her to lie, though; to camouflage her expressions, to cloak them with partial truths, and as he belted himself in securely he thought to himself that he’d need to keep an eye on Jemma. She was up to something.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **That scene with Ward and Brock was really very viscerally satisfying to write, I have to say. I was so _enraged_ when the episode aired I could barely see straight. And don’t worry… Brock isn’t finished with Ward yet, either :D**


	47. I'm Disappointed In You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma stages her attack on Ward, and we find out just what Trip's been up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter take place during Season 2 episodes 19-20, and use portions of dialogue from those episodes._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%2018_zpsxup3kswd.jpg.html)

Brock wanted to vomit when he realised what Ward had done to Sunil Bakshi. _How can you claim to be trying to be a better person when you’re stooping to their level?_ he wondered, watching Bakshi stare at Ward with slavish adoration. But then he admonished himself. He was, after all, in no position to throw stones, considering his own particular skill set. Though he’d never done _that_ to anyone.

“If it’s preferable, I’d prefer to join Agent Ward’s team,” Bakshi said in his smooth voice.

“Is that gonna be a problem?” Phil asked, ostensibly addressing Rumlow, though his eyes were on Simmons.

“Hardly.” Brock sneered slightly, felt Skye’s amused agreement - and her determination not to let either Ward or Bakshi frighten her friend. She took a small step in front of Jemma to shield her.

None of them would trust Ward at their backs, so they let him take point as they infiltrated the base, Bakshi trotting on his heels like a faithful dog, using his security card to open doors for them. Skye came next, and Brock took the rear guard, putting Jemma in the safest spot between him and Skye.

“Just like old times, huh?” Ward said conversationally as Skye came level with him for a moment, entering a room.

“Not exactly,” she said coldly, seeing movement in the shadows and flinging her hands up, releasing her power. The two HYDRA soldiers went flying as the vibrations struck them.

“So _that’s_ what happened in Puerto Rico,” Ward said in enlightened tones.

Skye didn’t even spare him a glance, and he said;

“The least you could do is thank m _-argh_.”

The tip of a knife blade was glinting a scant millimetre in front of his left eyeball.

“Shut. Up.” Brock said menacingly. From the corner of his eye he saw Bakshi step forward. “And don’t you move, either,” he pointed a finger on his free hand. “I know what you are now, his loyal dog. But you know what _I_ am. Or what I was. I, too, became _more_ in Puerto Rico.”

Ward’s face turned ashen.

“Mike’s here!” Jemma said, peering through a window, hurrying to a door and jerking at the handle. “It’s locked…”

Brock lowered the knife. “Step back, Simmons,” he said, and when she obeyed, he looked across the room and sent a focussed beam of laser light from his eyes straight into the door lock.

It melted right off the door.

The door swung open - and so did Ward’s mouth. Brock looked back at him and smiled.

“Thank you for this gift, Grant Ward,” he said softly, sheathed his knife and went after Jemma.

Skye lingered just long enough to savour the expression on Ward’s face before running after them.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Mike was claiming to Jemma.

“Bullshit,” Rumlow said succinctly, making a thin smile stretch across Mike’s scarred face.

“All right, it’s pretty bad. But there’s another guy here, a guy with electrical powers. They moved him just before you showed.”

“Lincoln,” Skye said, paling.

“That’s him. You need to hurry. He’s in pretty bad shape.”

Skye ran. Brock followed her by instinct, never even thinking that they were leaving Jemma alone with Ward and Bakshi, infected by Skye’s urgency to find their friend, both of them spurred on by the memory of Raina’s words. _You’re the only one who can save him_.

It wasn’t until Skye had Lincoln’s heart beating again, using some amazing trick of synchronising her power with the frequency of the electrical signals of Lincoln’s own - Brock was quite sure Fitz could explain it in physics terms, and he was quite sure he’d go mad listening - that he suddenly said “Oh shit, Simmons!” and spun around.

He got back to the other room just in time to hear Ward say “I’m disappointed in you.”

Brock took in the scene at a glance. The slowly settling pile of ash in the middle of the room. The gun in Ward’s hand. Jemma’s trembling, white-faced defiance.

“I’m disappointed in you too,” he said, stepping into the room. “You didn’t actually manage to kill him.”

For an instant, Ward’s finger tightened on the trigger - and Brock’s eyes began to glow as he deliberately stepped in front of Jemma, shielding her with his body. “Think you’re faster than the speed of light, Ward?” he said derisively. “You’ll be dead before you can even pull the trigger.”

Ward lowered the gun slowly.

“Time to move out,” May’s voice said crisply over the comm, “we’ve got what we came for. Report on rescue operations, Alpha Two.”

“Alpha Two reports, both patients alive but not stable,” Brock said after a moment, and as he glanced sideways to check on Mike, Ward took his opportunity and fled, the door slamming behind him.

“Th-thank you,” Jemma whispered shakily as they rushed Mike Peterson’s gurney along the corridor. “I k-killed Bakshi, though…”

“Good. You know better than most that the world’s better off without that sadistic bastard,” Brock said succinctly. “It’s only a pity you didn’t manage to get Ward as well. Good job, Simmons. I’m proud of you. I’ll make a field agent of you yet.”

She didn’t reply, but her shoulders straightened and a little colour returned to her pale cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Brock asked Coulson quietly later that night, as they stood in the Playground’s medical facility watching Jemma, Fitz and Skye fuss over the two invalids.

“I did. Come with me.” Coulson gestured subtly, and Brock followed him to his office. “Loki’s sceptre,” Coulson said without preamble. “The weapon that killed me. It can control minds - and it was one of the things HYDRA seized when SHIELD fell. The Avengers have been searching for it, as have I. I believe I have its location.”

“Are we going after it?” Brock asked calmly.

“No.” Coulson grimaced. “This - deciding things by committee - unfortunately I have to go along with it.”

“For now,” Brock added the unspoken coda. “If there wasn’t a committee…?”

“Thank you but no, Rumlow. _No_.”

“You’re the boss. So - what?”

Coulson smiled. “I’m going to call Hill. She’ll send in the Avengers. And I’ve had word from Trip and the Koenigs - Theta Protocol is ready. SHIELD is about to be back in business in a big way, Rumlow.”

“About damn time,” Brock said with an approving nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trip was exhausted.

It was a good sort of tired, though; helping the Koenigs complete Theta Protocol felt immensely satisfying. They’d put him in charge of overseeing all the final systems checks for both the helicarrier and the complement of quinjets. He was no engineer, but he flew enough to know what the correct safety readings looked like.

And, amazingly, the engineering staff were pretty good about explaining things he didn’t understand. Sam had complained about the engineers in the past, but maybe it was just that they knew Trip would likely end up flying their precious machines at some point.

Trip was looking forward to the rest of the week, though. All the repairs were complete and it was only Tuesday; the final deliveries of furnishings for the bunks and stocks of food for the kitchens had arrived - but were not his problem - and then once everything was situated all would be quiet until the activation order came from the Director. Trip and the Koenig brothers planned to celebrate with a couple of drinks in the base lounge and a well-earned couple of days of quiet. Maybe even an actual weekend.

All hopes of a few days of rest went up in smoke when Fury and Hill strode onto the base.

“Sir!” Billy - or maybe Sam? - said, standing abruptly upon seeing Fury. “To what-”

“No time,” Fury interrupted quickly. “We need to get the Helicarrier into the air. NOW.”

“What’s going on?” Trip asked, setting aside the last of the engine test results - all positive, thankfully - as the call went out for all assigned crew to report to the carrier.

“I’ll explain on the way, Agent Triplett,” Hill said. “Come with me; an additional Specialist of your skill is never a bad thing.”

Trip snapped off a quick salute and smiled as she nodded in response. “So what’s happening?” he asked again as they quickly strode down the corridor to the landing bay.

“The Avengers have a situation in Sokovia. We intend to be nearby in case they need backup,” Hill explained.

“Cool,” Trip answered, keeping his voice calm despite a sudden welling excitement.

“I hadn’t expected to see you here,” Hill commented, her voice a little lower as they approached the busy carrier.

“The Director sent me to oversee the final arrangements with the Koenigs,” Trip explained. “He’s been busy with other things and decided that if he couldn’t be here that I was his next best option.”

“I thought he had Rumlow liaising?” she asked curiously.

“He did, up until about a month ago,” Trip answered in a low tone. “But there were some complications after a mission, so I was assigned instead.”

Hill accepted that information with a nod. “Well, shall we get her in the air?” she asked with a small smile as they made their way to the bridge.

“Absolutely,” Trip agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though the trip to Sokovia was fairly routine, the rest of the mission was anything but. Trip scrambled with the complement of pilots when the call for transports to evacuate the residents of the airborne landmass came across. He would’ve been happier in a quinjet, attacking the horde of robotic fighters, but it was more important to get to the civilians.

The transport made several trips back and forth to the helicarrier, crammed full of people every time. The flight deck crew hustled people on and off, doing their best to minimize the time it took to load and unload. Trip’s transport made it back for one last load of people when he saw Barton urging people onto the vehicle. They were just about to depart when Barton stepped back off the ramp. Trip tensed, unsure why Hawkeye would go back if people were safe, but prepared to wait as long as possible for the other Agent to return.

When Trip saw Barton grab a small child and turn his body to shield the child from a quinjet shooting at them, he almost added his voice to the screams from the transport. Then, out of nowhere, a young man with silver hair appeared and used his own body to shield Hawkeye and the boy.

“Get them in here! Now!” Trip yelled out the order as the Hulk smashed into the quinjet that had fired the shots. Several agents nodded and dashed out of the safety of the transport; two helped Barton and the child while the others retrieved the dying young man. The moment everyone was safely aboard, Trip hit the controls to shut the ramp and took off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the aftermath of the battle, Trip stood outside the medical bay. Inside was the body of the young man - Pietro Maximoff - that Trip had seen killed. Sitting beside him, holding his cold hand, was a beautiful girl whose dark eyes were red from weeping.

“Damn shame,” Fury said in a dark voice as he stepped up to the window beside Trip.

“I assume he’s enhanced somehow?” Trip asked in a low tone. “No one can move that fast normally.”

“He was,” Fury confirmed. “We were hoping to recruit both the Maximoffs to the Avengers Initiative,” he added, nodding towards the room.

After looking around and seeing the hallway entirely empty, Trip asked, “Why can’t we bring him back, like Coulson?”

“Coulson’s team blew up the facility and its contents a year ago,” Fury answered regretfully.

“I know, but he’s had someone else working on it. There’s a lab, in Nashville, that we think finally has a stable version.”

Fury blinked at Trip for a moment, then turned on his heel. As he strode away, he called back over his shoulder, “You might want to call ahead to Nashville, then, Agent.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they neared Nashville, it was Trip who knocked on the door to Pietro’s room in the med bay. “Come in,” Wanda called out, her softly accented voice quiet.

Trip closed the door behind himself and moved to sit beside her. “My name is Antoine Triplett, Miss Maximoff. I’m sorry to interrupt you, but there’s something you need to know.”

Her dark eyes focused on him, full of grief, but she simply nodded.

“SHIELD has a drug, developed here but originally of alien origin. It has been used in the past to keep someone from dying or to bring back a fallen hero. It’s still mostly experimental, though I do personally know two of the people it has been used to help.” He watched her expression lighten as he spoke, and he did his best to make her understand the risks. “It could potentially have side effects. We don’t know how it will affect your brother. But we’re willing to try it, if you’re willing to take the risk.”

“He would live again?” she whispered in a shaky voice, almost afraid to believe it could be true.

“He could, but some people didn’t handle it well. A few went crazy. A couple had to have their memories erased in order to stabilize them. But I do know at least two who are stable and fully functional without any of those problems,” Trip explained. “It’s a risk either way. But we’re willing to help, if we can.”

Wanda was silent for several long minutes. Finally she met Trip’s eyes again, and this time her eyes were lit from within. “I will help him too. I will take this risk, Agent Triplett. And I thank you with all my heart for giving me the chance to have my twin back.”

Trip smiled and nodded. “We’ll need to take him to the facility where they have doctors familiar with the drug. But you’re welcome to come along, so you can be there when he wakes up. And call me Trip, if you’d like.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “When will we arrive, Trip?”

“We’re almost there, but we’ll have to transfer to a medical helicopter for the last bit of the trip. And I hope you know that this procedure needs to be kept secret…”

“I understand,” she agreed. “Such a thing must only be for special people; we cannot save everyone.”

“The project was created to save fallen Avengers,” Trip acknowledged. “And from what I saw, your brother more than qualifies.”

She smiled. It was a thin smile, still full of grief and fear, but there was hope there too now, and Trip smiled back at her reassuringly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trip was a little surprised when Hill asked him to fly the quinjet that would transport Wanda and her brother’s body to the Brand Corporation labs. But then, he supposed, he was the only one who’d actually been there, and they knew him, would accept an order from him as Coulson’s representative.

He was glad, on boarding the jet, to see that Pietro’s body wasn’t in a body bag, but in a hyperbaric chamber with a clear lid, strapped down in the  transport’s centre bay. Wanda sat beside it, and to Trip’s surprise Barton sat with her, talking to her quietly. They both stood when they saw Trip enter.

“This is Agent Triplett,” Wanda told Barton in her accented voice, and Barton held out his hand.

“Very good to meet you, Agent Triplett. Director Fury and Wanda here have both told me about you.”

Trip was aware that he was completely failing to keep the hero-worship out of his face and voice as he shook Barton’s hand. “The honour is all mine, sir!” He gestured towards the pilot’s seat. “Would you prefer to fly us…?” One of the many things he knew about Barton’s SHIELD career was that Hawkeye was a crackerjack pilot.

Barton grimaced. “Thank you, but no. I took a couple of hits during the battle.” He touched his ribs gingerly. “Thanks for the offer though, Agent.”

“Please call me Trip.”

“Clint.”

Trip couldn’t keep the enormous grin from forming on his face. _I’m on first name basis with an Avenger. Two_ Avengers, as Wanda smiled at him too, because sure as hell she deserved to be called one. It was all over the Helicarrier how she had defended the key alone and then torn Ultron’s power core out of his body.

“Please, belt in,” he said to Wanda, “it’s not a long flight, and we shouldn’t have any stability issues, but sometimes at takeoff we get rattled around. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Thank you, Trip,” she said gravely, sitting down and letting Clint help her with the safety harness. As Clint sat down she leaned her head on his shoulder and he took her hand to pat it reassuringly.

 _Oh_.

Trip climbed into the pilot’s seat feeling unaccountably disappointed. Barton must be about twice Wanda’s age, but - well, he knew how it could be among team-mates sometimes. Especially when grief or trauma played a part.

Wanda was on her feet anxiously waiting as soon as Trip shut down the quinjet’s engines, one slender hand resting on the hyperbaric chamber.

“Hang tight, Wanda,” he said reassuringly, “I’ll just get things squared away and we’ll be going in a few minutes.”

He’d called ahead, and apparently they’d been talking to Coulson who had confirmed that Trip was authorised to bring a patient in, so they were waiting for him on the rooftop helipad where he’d landed. The hyperbaric chamber was loaded quickly, six white-coated scientists hurrying it to the rooftop elevator.

Trip was about to return to the quinjet when a small hand suddenly seized his in a tight, clinging grip.

“Please,” Wanda said, her delicately lovely face turned up to his, “will you come with me?”

He glanced over the top of her head at Clint, who waved him off casually. Shrugged. “Of course. I’ve been here a couple of times, I know my way around a bit.”

She didn’t let go of his hand, and he found himself wrapping his longer fingers around hers, squeezing gently to reassure her as they followed the scientists. In just a few minutes they were watching through a window into a sterile surgical suite as Pietro’s body was removed from the chamber, laid on an operating table. Wanda’s hand tightened as a syringe full of a glowing blue liquid was brought out and injected directly into Pietro’s heart.

“What will happen now?” she asked fearfully, looking up at Trip.

“I’ve never seen it, but apparently his heart should begin beating again in under a minute,” Trip said quietly, “and once it does they’ll do surgery to repair his wounds, give him a blood transfusion, and put him into recovery just like a major trauma patient.”

The seconds ticked by endlessly as they waited, Wanda’s fingers cold and trembling in Trip’s grasp. And then she gasped - about two seconds before the heart monitor beeped for the first time.

“ _Pietro_ ,” Wanda said softly, her dark eyes sparkling with tears. The monitor was beeping steadily now, the scientists smiling and nodding at each other, reaching for surgical instruments. Trip realised suddenly that Wanda probably really shouldn’t watch them cutting into her brother to operate.

“He’s gonna be all right,” he said reassuringly, tugging gently on her hand to pull her away from the window. “Your brother’s gonna be just fine.”

“I know,” she turned her magnificent eyes up to him, and all of a sudden she stood on tiptoe and threw her arms around his neck, holding on tight. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Trip.”

“Hey girl,” he said, returning the hug warmly, “you’re very welcome.” She was slim and soft in his arms, and her hair smelled really good. Trip suddenly really didn’t want to let go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **We concluded that we probably already had enough soulmate groupings in this AU where they’re a rarity. But since Trip and Wanda would make a really adorable couple anyway… we gave them another way to get together. And, of course, #PietroLives as well…**
> 
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	48. What Is That Thing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock, Skye and Lincoln return to Afterlife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter take place during Season 2, episode 20, and may use dialogue from the episode._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/Rumskye%2019_zpspohv7nh6.jpg.html)

Jemma and the other medical staff elected to keep Lincoln in an induced coma for several days. He’d been terribly wounded - quite literally on the verge of death - and it was only Skye’s intervention to restart his heart that saved his life. So Brock was more than a bit irritated with the younger man when he woke up and told Skye that she shouldn’t have bothered saving him, if all she’d done was hand him over to SHIELD.

“Right, we should just have let HYDRA experiment on you until you were dead, and then use whatever they extracted from your corpse to attempt to recreate your ability on live test subjects,” Brock said sarcastically. “I’m thinking that’s why they managed to drive most of the super-soldier test subjects mad, incidentally. They weren’t Inhumans.”

“And you were,” Skye realised, suddenly putting it together. “That’s why your results were so dramatically superior to the others; that’s why you didn’t show the side effects. Do you think it was created from an Inhuman?” she looked sick at the thought.

“Either that or another drug from the GH family,” Brock gave her a meaningful look. “325 wasn’t the only one, as I understand it.”

 _And the Guest House wasn’t a SHIELD facility; they could well have sold those drugs to HYDRA_ , Skye replied on their mental link. _Oh my God. Have you told Coulson about this?_

_Of course. But it’s only a theory. We’ll never know for sure, considering Whitehall’s dead and the Guest House destroyed._

Lincoln was still looking distressed. “But SHIELD knows we exist, now they won’t stop until they find Afterlife,” he blurted.

“It’s all right, Lincoln,” Skye tried to soothe him. “We’re going to make it work. Coulson wants to meet with the Elders, negotiate.”

“Negotiate us all onto their Index,” Lincoln said bitterly, looking at Jemma through the window, at the observations she was entering into her tablet.

There wasn’t a lot Brock or Skye could say. Coulson had already given orders to have Lincoln Indexed.

“Negotiations about that are above our pay grade,” Brock said finally, “but SHIELD aren’t about locking up or experimenting on people who are peaceable and want to be left alone. That was HYDRA within SHIELD, and that ain’t happening any more. Skye and I will make sure of it.”

Lincoln regarded them skeptically and just shook his head. Skye sighed. “Being on the Index isn’t really as terrible as it sounds,” she said after a moment. “I’m on it already. Surely someone had to have thought that by bringing us to Afterlife, SHIELD would find out about the rest of you eventually. And you know who else is on the Index? Captain America. Most of the Avengers, actually, since SHIELD put that team together originally.”

Lincoln blinked, clearly not having thought about the Avengers being on the Index. “Why?”

Skye thought for a moment, looking for an analogy. “Think of it like a medical record. We’re different, not quite human anymore. What if something happened to one of us? Suppose that the change had modified someone’s blood type or made it so that their body is incompatible with standard drugs? What if a shot of antibiotic could accidentally kill someone? Wouldn’t it be better to _know_ , just in case?”

“But there’s more to it than that,” Lincoln protested.

“Of course there is,” Brock agreed readily. “But it really is more about protecting other people. Our abilities _are_ dangerous, particularly if they get out of control. Yes, we’ve been learning control at Afterlife… but accidents happen. And SHIELD has to worry about more than a few dozen or even a few hundred Inhumans.”

“Which is why we shouldn’t associate with SHIELD,” Lincoln said stubbornly.

“But you told me yourself, no one really lives at Afterlife long-term,” Skye said gently. “People learn what they need to, and then go back out into the world. What happens when Gordon can’t get to someone, if something happens? What happens when Gordon dies? Surely being Inhuman doesn’t mean we live forever. What then? We’re scattered all over the world, no way to get anywhere safe in an emergency and no idea where any of the rest of us are?”

Lincoln bit his lip, looking troubled. But he didn’t say anything, and Skye backed off. _Better let him ponder that for a bit,_ she said silently to Brock. He agreed with her; had been about to say the same thing.

The sound of running feet outside made them all look around; it was May. She looked directly at them, not looking surprised at all to see Lincoln awake.

“We’ve got a problem,” she said grimly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock and Skye stood in Coulson’s office, both troubled, as they watched the video footage of Gordon and Raina in front of the case containing the strange black stone.

“Holy…” Skye whispered as the stone dissolved into oily black waves, sloshing against the sides of the case, before instantly reforming. “What _is_ that thing?”

“I never heard anyone mention anything like it at Afterlife, did you?” Brock shook his head, his eyes glued to the screen. The strange stone was absorbing to watch, for some reason. “And I’m sure Lincoln knows nothing, he said he’d never heard of anything like it, and that boy couldn’t lie to save his life.”

“You hardly know him,” Coulson pointed out.

“Come off it, Coulson! I’ve been trained to pick when someone’s lying. Lincoln’s a decent kid.”

“No one at Afterlife ever tried to hurt us,” Skye insisted. “They taught us to contain our power. To channel mine so that I wasn’t hurting myself, control Brock’s so that he doesn’t have to deliberately blind himself to avoid hurting others!”

Brock pressed on her hand lightly. _Don’t get agitated. They’re just concerned. It’s an odd thing for Gordon and Raina to do, you must see that_.

“They just want to be left alone,” Skye said softly.

“Why infiltrate a military vessel, then?” May demanded.

“What is that thing, and why is it being held on the _Iliad_?” Brock demanded in return.

Coulson and May looked at each other. “It was recovered from a dig site almost a hundred years ago,” Coulson admitted finally. “It’s known to be of alien origin, but that’s literally all we know about it - except for one more thing.” He looked directly at Brock. “Just before SHIELD fell, Fury sent you out with orders and a computer chip for STRIKE Team Gamma.”

“Yes,” Brock agreed, a little blank.

“That chip was intended to send the _Iliad_ to the bottom of the ocean - for one reason and one reason only. To keep _that_ ,” he stabbed his finger at the screen, “out of HYDRA’s hands. They were after it.”

Brock blinked several times. “Why?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

Brock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Coulson, I’ve told you a hundred times that HYDRA was compartmentalised to hell and gone. How else do you think they stayed hidden within SHIELDfor nearly seventy years? I was a foot soldier for them, and a guinea pig for a few of their experiments. Nothing more. I certainly don’t know shit about what their _other_ mad science divisions were up to, any more than I can tell you what SHIELD’s research divisions did.”

“Told you,” May said dryly to Coulson, and he sighed, turning away and rubbing at his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Rumlow. I had to ask.”

“You’re assuming that this thing is a weapon,” Skye said suddenly, “aren’t you? Maybe they’re afraid of what SHIELD will do with it. What _Gonzales_ will do with it.”

“We’re not the enemy here,” May said sharply. “This man teleported aboard, Skye. He’s clearly very dangerous.”

“Well, the same could be said about you, May,” Skye said, and Brock sucked in his breath.

_Don’t go there, baby!_

She ignored him. “I heard about what happened to that little girl in Bahrain. Jiaying told me the whole story. Did you know that she was Inhuman? They both were, her and her mom. So _you_ , of all people, should understand why they’d want to keep their location a secret - what they’re so afraid of.”

May’s face was a frozen mask. And then she said quietly “I know what _I’m_ afraid of, Skye. And I know why.”

She walked out of the room. After a moment, Coulson followed her.

“That was a mistake,” Brock said quietly, and Skye scowled.

“They’re not listening to us. They’re classifying all of us as a threat, and that’s not right!” She turned and stalked out, deliberately closing her mind to him, and Brock sighed and rubbed at his brow.

 _Jiaying_ , he thought grimly. _This all comes back to Jiaying. She’s Skye’s mom and Skye wants to believe in her so badly - but there’s something not right about that woman_.

Coulson returned while he was still standing there, closing the door quietly behind him.

“You want to meet with them,” Brock said quietly. “With Jiaying.”

“Tell me about her, please.” Coulson seated himself.

“Has Skye told you yet?”

“Told me what?” Coulson cocked his head, and Brock sighed and lowered himself into the other chair.

“She’s Skye’s birth mom.”

“That - explains a few things,” Coulson said after a few minutes of shocked silence.

“Like Skye being so determined to protect them? Yeah.”

“You know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you and Skye at odds over something, Rumlow. Would you care to tell me why? I can’t make you, but…”

“It could be important.” Brock rubbed at his brow again. “I can’t explain. Something about Jiaying sits wrong with me. She doesn’t like me, that’s for sure, and to some extent I understand why, considering how much older I am than Skye and my past. If she could get rid of me without hurting Skye she’d do it in a heartbeat, of that I’m absolutely certain. Which makes me feel that she’s ruthless, that she will do whatever she feels is necessary to protect her people.” Talking it out, he suddenly realised what it was that had really bothered him. “Even down to sacrificing Skye, if that’s what it takes.”

Coulson looked sober. “I see. Well - as Director of SHIELD, I understand her position, to some extent. Ruthlessness is a required trait, but not one I have in spades. That’s why I have you and May.”

Brock smiled tightly. “I’m a whole lot less ruthless than I used to be. Except when it comes to protecting Skye, of course.”

“Mm.” Coulson tapped his fingers on the desk lightly. “Should I meet with Jiaying? I’m telling you now that Gonzales is pushing for us to go straight to Afterlife.”

“But they don’t know where it is - they do know where it is,” Brock realised, seeing Coulson’s expression. “God damn it. What did they do, build a device that can track Gordon?”

Coulson nodded infinitesimally.

“Then I think you have no choice but to arrange a meeting with Jiaying on civil terms. Negotiate. Let me and Skye go first, take Lincoln back. We can pave the way. Jiaying might listen to Skye.”

“All right. I can convince Gonzales to do that, I think. Wait until Lincoln gets back on his feet, though. Taking him back looking like death warmed over probably won’t do us any favours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock suspected that Jiaying was absolutely furious, but she showed no outward signs of it as she embraced Skye and told her how happy she was to have her back safe again. Lincoln was sent off to the medical centre to be looked over by ‘ _our healers_ ’ and Brock - was completely ignored. He shrugged it off, caught Gordon’s arm before the teleporter could disappear again.

“Where’s Raina?”

“Why?” Gordon asked.

“Because she was correct in her predictions about Lincoln. I don’t like her and I’ll never trust her, but her gift appears to be real.”

“It’s not her only prediction that came true,” Gordon said, “she predicted Ultron as well.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“Her gift is extraordinary - but she’s a troublemaker.” Gordon turned his eyeless face away. “She’s been trying to undermine Jiaying’s leadership here, Rumlow. It’s not welcome. We’ve restricted access to her for the moment.”

“Does that mean that I’m not allowed to see her?”

Gordon hesitated. “You’re different. You’re Daisy’s soulmate, and you already know what she is. I guess - it couldn’t hurt. Yes, you can see her. I’ll let you know a time.”

Brock could hear Skye pleading with Jiaying to meet with Coulson. Jiaying appeared to be listening, but… his lips tightened. “What the hell was that stunt on the aircraft carrier, Gordon? What does that stone thing mean to the Inhumans?”

“It means our doom,” Gordon said darkly, and he stepped back and vanished in a flash of blue light, leaving Brock with his mouth agape.

Skye came walking back to him, her expression concerned, as Jiaying walked away. Brock opened his arms to Skye and she leaned against him. Gently, he kissed her brow.

“It’ll work out, baby. We’ll make it work.”

She only sighed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They did indeed get to see Raina later - as they witnessed Gordon and Jiaying confronting her about her manipulations. Skye couldn’t resist getting in a few verbal digs too, despite Brock attempting to rein her in. She wasn’t listening to him, though, her resentment of Raina too strong.

Brock lingered behind when the others had left. Gordon hesitated by the door, but in the end closed it, leaving them alone.

“So are you to be my executioner?” Raina said bitterly. “I’ve already faced judge and jury, who better to give the final blow than the man who’s been assassin for both SHIELD and HYDRA?”

“I’m not here to judge you, Raina,” Brock said quietly, “nor to kill you. I might be the only person here who’s prepared to listen. So talk.”

She seemed to hesitate, wondering if it was a trick, and then suddenly smiled. “Ah, I see. You’re worried I might be right. Fearful for your precious Skye.”

“Correct,” Brock said equably. “And I’m offering you a deal. If you give me information that helps me protect her, I’ll do my best to get you out of here.”

“Save it,” Raina said harshly. “There’s no scenario that ends with me leaving this place alive.”

That made him blink. “Then - I don’t suppose I’ve anything to bargain with.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her eerie pale eyes unblinking. “You’ve been more decent to me than I deserve,” she said finally, “all things considered.”

He shrugged a bit uncomfortably. “I’m trying to leave my shitty past behind. Treat people as I’d want to be treated, if I were in their place. You paid for your mistakes.”

“With this form? It’s only a shell.” She shook her head. “All right, Rumlow. I’ll give you what you need. Skye will survive the storm that is coming. But you have to leave her to face her demons alone.”

Everything in him rebelled at the idea, and he took an instinctive step back. Raina’s thorny hand on his arm stopped him.

“ _Listen to me_. Jiaying will meet with SHIELD and there will be a disaster; you cannot prevent it. You must leave Skye here and go back with SHIELD. Or you will be trapped here when an even greater disaster occurs, the consequences of which are unimaginable.”

“Raina,” he said frustratedly. “I can’t leave Skye!”

“You _must_!” she shouted it. “You must leave her, or you _will_ lose her.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “You’ll only get one opportunity to go, Rumlow, and when the time comes you must take it.” She let go of his arm and turned away, and at that moment the door opened.

“What are you doing here?” the tall, red-haired woman demanded suspiciously.

“Making sure that I don’t pose a threat to his precious SHIELD,” Raina snapped sharply. “Don’t worry, Alisha. Rumlow’s one I definitely can’t subvert.”

“Damn right,” Brock muttered, playing his part. “I’ve suffered too much from your antics to ever trust a word out of your lying mouth.”

Raina glanced at him once, her eyes huge and pleading, as he left, and he gave her a very small nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock stood beside Skye, the pair of them arrayed to one side of Jiaying, Cal on the other - holding her hand, rather to Brock’s surprise. _They’re planning something_ , he thought, but he was careful to keep the thought buried, seeing Skye smiling at her parents apparently united.

Brock looked at the door with a welcoming smile as it opened - and Robert Gonzales walked in, escorted by Gordon.

Skye stiffened and blurted “Where’s Coulson?” at once.

“At headquarters,” Gonzales replied steadily. “And I represent SHIELD with his same intentions.” His eyes moved to Brock as he named SHIELD, stared at him for a long moment before moving his gaze to Cal. “I might ask why _he’s_ here, though.”

“You returned Lincoln, Skye and Brock to us,” Jiaying said with a smile. “We’d like to return someone of interest to you. He’s killed agents of yours, hasn’t he?”

Gonzales was looking as surprised as Brock was feeling. Cal butted in before he could speak, though.

“Uh, no. No, not SHIELD agents. I don’t think. No, just people… who had it coming.”

Brock blinked, glanced at Skye. As far as he knew, it was the truth,though. Cal hadn’t killed any SHIELD agents. _But what the hell were he and Jiaying playing at?_ Brock was relieved that Skye seemed as confused and worried as he did, though.

Jiaying was claiming that it was the right thing to do. And Cal was giving her a small, sad smile.

Gonzales seemed to hesitate, and then he said “I’ll call one of my people to take him.”

“There are two SHIELD agents right here,” Jiaying gestured to Brock and Skye. “They can take him. Would you please escort your father to the agents outside?” she addressed Skye. “I’m sure Mr…”

“Agent Gonzales,” Brock supplied, realising he’d been remiss, as the only one present who knew everyone, in not making the introductions.

“Robert,” Gonzales put in.

Jiaying smiled that serene smile of hers again. “Robert, and I have much to discuss.”

Skye looked reluctant to leave. Brock put a gentle hand under her elbow as Cal walked towards the door, and Jiaying nodded calmly at her.

Skye walked at Cal’s side, and Brock took up position a step behind. He didn’t think Cal was going to try anything stupid - not here - but he still didn’t understand what was going on. What Cal’s motives were for giving himself up to SHIELD, because he didn’t buy for a second that it was purely a gesture of goodwill from the Inhumans. There was some deeper game being played here.

“You know,” Cal said to Skye as they walked together, “I was always so excited to meet you, even when you were a little bit of nothing in your mother’s belly. Oh, I had all these ideas in my head as to what kind of woman you’d turn out to be, and… you really are magnificent.” He stopped walking, turned to face Skye. “I’m glad I got a chance to know you.”

“I’m glad I got to know you, too,” Skye said softly with a small smile.

“And you!” Cal turned to Brock. “The thought of you was the only comfort I had through all those long years. That there was someone out there who was looking for Daisy just as hard as I was.”

“I’m not sure anyone could have searched as hard as you did,” Brock admitted honestly.

That made Cal smile. “Still. I’m glad you found her. That you have each other.” He paused, looked deep in Brock’s eyes. “That you’re a man worthy of my daughter.”

The words were unspoken, but Cal might as well have shouted them. _Take care of her_.

Brock offered his hand and they shook in silence before Cal turned to the black-clad agents at the end of the walkway they were following.

One of them was Melinda May.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Uh-oh. What are the Inhumans planning? What is SHIELD up to? What have we changed now? You’ll just have to keep reading, dears.**
> 
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	49. This Is War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the Inhuman/SHIELD war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events of this chapter take place during Season 2, episode 21, and may use dialogue from this episode.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/The-Purge-2-Frank-Grillo-Gun_zpssusroxby.jpg.html)

Jemma was there too, Brock realised belatedly, just a couple of steps away, speaking with Lincoln, asking him how he was recovering from his wounds. He nodded and smiled in greeting, and she smiled back at him. He turned back to May just in time to hear her tell Skye that she couldn’t negotiate objectively. Eyes fixed on Skye, she said quietly;

“I hope your mother is everything you wanted her to be,” before turning away and walking after the two agents leading a cuffed Cal to the quinjet.

Christ almighty, May just as good as told Skye that she loved her… and Skye was standing there, stunned.

“This way,” Lincoln was saying to Jemma, “we’ve prepared refreshments, and there’s a wonderful view.”

Skye followed them and Brock sighed and went after her. He was tempted to linger near Jiaying’s office, see what he could overhear, but Skye would be suspicious, knowing how good his hearing was. They’d barely reached the balcony of the guest house Lincoln was leading them to when there was a sound he could never mistake for anything else.

A gunshot.

Followed by a second.

And they were coming from Jiaying’s office.

“Mom?” Skye gasped.

“What’s going on in there?” Lincoln exclaimed.

Brock didn’t waste breath on words. Just vaulted the balcony railing and was running as soon as he hit the ground below. He heard Skye scream, “Mom!” again behind him as they all saw Jiaying, staggering out of her office with her hand clasped to her shoulder, blood spurting between her fingers. There was only fiery rage in her eyes as Brock reached her.

“Not you!” she hissed at him, but she wavered on her feet, went to her knees and would have fallen on her face if he hadn’t caught her. He eased her carefully down to her back, grabbing her hand to put pressure on the wound, looking up to yell for Simmons, who was pelting towards him hard on Lincoln and Skye’s heels.

“Mom!” Skye skidded to her knees beside them, her face pale.

“He tried to kill me,” Jiaying gasped. Narrowed her eyes at Brock. “SHIELD tried to kill me.”

“Gonzales?” Brock said in utter disbelief. It was just so not the old guy’s style.

“This is war,” Jiaying panted, her eyes locked with his.

“Mom - what happened?” Skye was almost sobbing with fear, her eyes riveted on the blood seeping over Jiaying and Brock’s fingers.

“Gonzales - said that we were - that Inhumans should be exterminated,” Jiaying finally looked at Skye. “He had a gun.”

Skye’s face hardened, and she got to her feet.

“No - stay with me, please,” Jiaying begged. “Gordon will take care of him.”

The eyeless Inhuman, who’d come running up with a hard-faced man at his shoulder, nodded briskly.

“Get everyone to safety,” Jiaying gasped at Lincoln, who nodded at once and scrambled up.

“Let me take a look at that,” Jemma moved forward, her hands spread wide, unthreatening.

“SHIELD’s done enough,” Jiaying spat, and Jemma flinched back, blanching. “We have our own doctors. Right now, we have more pressing concerns.”

“You should get out of here,” Brock looked up, met Jemma’s eyes. Gave her a near- imperceptible flick of the eyes he’d taught her when he was training her for undercover work. Don’t ask questions, just go!

She did ask, though, because Jemma could never not ask questions.

“What about you?” she looked from him to Skye, her expression concerned.

He shook his head at her before looking to the two tac agents at her shoulder, who were looking extremely concerned, hands on their guns. “Go.”

“We need to get you to the doctors, Mom!” Skye said despairingly as Jemma turned and ran, the two agents flanking her protectively.

Jiaying looked at Gordon, who nodded back at her before turning and heading for her office.

“I’ll help you deal with Gonzales, Gordon,” Brock said.

“No!” Jiaying gasped. “Brock - please, help me to Alisha. She can help heal me.”

Ah, so that’s what the angry redhead does. He nodded, though, because Skye was looking at him pleadingly and he could feel her fear for her mother. Lifted Jiaying carefully in his arms. She moaned with pain and he tried to cradle her as gently as he could, carry her without jolting over the uneven pathway.

They’d gone barely a few dozen yards before a sudden familiar roaring made him look around, startled. What the hell…?

A quinjet swooped up into the air, swivelled to face them and…

“Incoming!” Brock roared, grabbed at Skye’s shoulder and flung her sideways into some shrubs, leaping after her with Jiaying still in his arms, covering both women protectively with his body as rockets roared down from the quinjet’s external launchers and smashed into the building just behind them. Jiaying’s office.

Well, that’s one way to get rid of the evidence, Brock couldn’t help but think, as the jet swung away and Jiaying twisted out of his arms to glare at Skye.

“Why would you let him do this to us?” she demanded. “I thought you were on our side!”

“I am! I - I had no idea, I swear…”

“Whoever’s idea this was, it wasn’t Coulson’s,” Brock said grimly, getting to his feet and lifting Jiaying again. “I’m going to get to the fucking bottom of this.”

Alisha was running towards them, he saw. She gave him a glare, but beckoned him to bring Jiaying. It wasn’t until he was laying her down on a bed at Alisha’s direction that Brock realised Skye wasn’t behind him. He blinked, turning in a full circle, before feeling for her with his mind. He’d made a mistake limiting her access to his thoughts, he realised, because it worked both ways, he wasn’t instantly aware of her actions; but he hadn’t wanted her to know his concerns about Jiaying, hadn’t wanted to hurt her…

“What the fuck!” as he finally managed to connect with Skye and saw her confronting May - fighting May. He took off back down the path in a dead run.

He got there just in time to hear May say “Stop wasting time, Skye, help me fix this!” She glanced beyond Skye, saw Brock. “Rumlow, tell her, we need to deal with this, she needs to let me past so I can find Gonzales…”

“I’m sorry, May,” Skye said firmly, “but you’re not welcome here.” She held out her hand.

“No!” Brock yelled, but she’d already unleashed her power. May went flying, crashed to the ground and lay still. And for the first time ever, Brock raised his voice to Skye. “You fucking idiot!”

“W-what?” Skye stuttered in shock as he pushed past her, knelt beside May, checked her pulse.

“You just escalated the situation massively without knowing all the information, Skye!”

“But - but Gonzales shot Mom…”

“And a quinjet just conveniently blew the hell out of any evidence of what actually happened. Any evidence that it might not have gone down exactly as Jiaying said!”

Skye blinked as he finally opened his mind fully to her, shared his concerns, his doubts. “You - you didn’t tell me,” she whispered finally.

“How could I, baby? You were so happy and excited to finally find your mom, and I had no proof, I still don’t. But something’s not right, I’m telling you something’s not right here, every instinct I have is screaming it.”

His tone had softened, and she understood, it was his love for her that had made him do it, seeking as ever not to hurt her. “What do we do?” she whispered.

He hesitated - but Raina’s words rang in his mind. You’ll only get one opportunity to go, and when the time comes you must take it. You must leave her, or you will lose her. “You stay here, with your mom. She’s hurt and she needs you. But don’t close your mind, Skye. Keep your eyes open and keep in contact.” He looked down at May’s unconscious body. “I’m going back. I’ll find out what the fuck has gone on and I’ll let you know. They can’t block this.” He touched his temple.

She sucked in an unhappy breath, but then nodded. Moved closer to him. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” He reached out, took her in his arms for one long, slow kiss. “Be careful.”

“They won’t hurt me,” Skye shook her head. “Mom won’t let anyone hurt me.”

“I’m not prepared to bet your life on it.” Gently, he stroked her scraped cheek with his hand, her mind with his own in a loving, soft caress, before turning away and scooping May up, setting off down the path in a fast jog. “And talk to Raina!” he called back over his shoulder.

May roused in his arms as he approached the parked quinjets, let out an angry huff of breath. “Put me down, Rumlow,” she growled.

“As long as you’re not gonna fall down when I do.”

She glared up at him, and he set her on her feet with a grin, leaving a steadying hand on the small of her back for a few moments.

Agent Weaver was standing on the quinjet’s ramp, staring at them. Staring at him, Brock realised. He nodded politely to her, and she drew back, wrinkling her nose as though she’d smelled something bad.

“Nice to see you too, Anne,” he said cheerfully, unable to resist needling her.  

“Do you have your abilities under control, Agent Rumlow?” she asked coldly.

“I do, and I’m on the Index an’ everything.” He gave her a wink before turning serious. “What the fuck is going on here, guys?”

“Exactly what I was about to ask!” Coulson’s voice snapped, and Brock realised that they had a live link inside the plane. He stalked inside with May, nodded to Coulson.

“Who was piloting that damn quinjet, and who gave the order to fire?” Brock barked. “Because not only is Gonzales dead, but now there’s no fucking body to investigate and the Inhumans’ leader is saying that Gonzales attacked her.”

“We’re still investigating that,” Jemma put in.

“Where’s Skye, Rumlow?” Coulson demanded then.

Brock shook his head sharply. He could see Hunter and Fitz both standing with Coulson, staring at him with incredulity on their faces. “She’s alright, but she needs to stay here for now. And we - SHIELD, that is - need to get out of here before the Inhumans decide they’re coming after us. Let’s get these birds in the air.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Jemma said despairingly. “Why invite SHIELD here only to attack?”

“I don’t know,” Coulson said, “but maybe their ‘peace offering’ over there does.”

Brock turned. He’d seen Cal as he strode past, really looked at him now. He was wearing sound-cancelling headphones and humming to himself. He didn’t look quite right, somehow; sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool mountain air, a slightly manic look to him. Seeing Brock looking at him, he smiled, showing a lot of teeth.

“He took these,” Jemma whispered, showing Brock three vials with a couple of drops of neon-coloured liquid in the bottom of each.

Somehow, Brock didn’t think it was Gatorade.

“Get this bird in the air,” he told May.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock watched Jemma skitter off to the labs to analyze the chemicals in the vials from Cal.

“Have we lost Skye?” Coulson asked, his eyes glancing between May and Brock.

“We didn’t lose Skye. She chose,” May’s voice was calm, but Brock could detect a hint of pain underlying the even tones.

“No,” Brock said in a low voice. “She didn’t. Skye’s hurt, confused, and scared. Scared that the family she thought was hers turned on both her and the family she’s just rediscovered. Confused that something very strange is happening, and she doesn’t know who she can trust other than me.”

“We all know that Skye’s strength as well as her weakness comes from the people she cares about,” Coulson said, his expression pained for just an instant before it smoothed out. “You’re here, and Skye stayed. That says a lot.”

“Skye stayed because I told her to. She’ll keep her eyes and ears open, and maybe between us we can figure out what’s going on before more people die.”

May blinked. “Wait, you think..?”

Brock grimaced. “I think Gonzalez is dead. I think the building was destroyed to hide evidence that wouldn’t agree with Jiaying’s story. There’s something not quite right about her, but Skye’s too close to see it.” Brock sighed. “In the past few days, she’s learned more about her parents and the first months of her life than she ever knew as well as learning to control her power. She’s overwhelmed and thinking with her heart rather than her head.”

“Why can’t she trust us?” May scowled but seemed to be considering Rumlow’s words seriously.

Brock just looked at her. “You know Calderon tried to kill her, right?”

“I thought Morse said she ordered everyone to take ICERs.”

“Well, the gun shooting at us had live ammo. Fortunately Morse yelled, and Skye’s powers responded instinctively to let her save herself - and me.”

“I saw the damage,” Coulson said with a small smile. Then he sighed. “She has good reason to question who to trust. We’ve all done some of that lately.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Skye’s mother orchestrated the whole thing. It was a performance,” Coulson said. “The quinjet they stole only fired on one building. And no one got hurt.”

“Except Commander Gonzalez,” Simmons put in.

“It either killed him or, as I suspect, destroyed the evidence that he was already dead,” Brock said grimly. “Jiaying didn’t want either me or Skye going in that building after she came out.”

“If it’s theatre, it worked,” May said. “Every Inhuman up there believes that SHIELD attacked their leader and declared war.”

“Including Skye.” Jemma sounded sad.

Brock shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. At least, not entirely, though I’ll admit that if I hadn’t been there with her to get suspicious Skye might have been taken in. Jiaying is tugging at her strings. Saying that for the safety of the Inhumans, they have to take SHIELD out before SHIELD goes after them. And she wants Skye by her side. Skye doesn’t know what to believe.”

“You would know,” Coulson said with a slight shrug. “We still have to figure out how to fix this. Even if Skye is questioning, the other Inhumans aren’t.

“Then mark that down as the second time SHIELD got played today,” Hunter broke in, striding through the open door with Fitz right behind him.

“Figured out what happened to Agent Morse. She left on a Quinjet with… you,” Fitz said, looking right at May.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock stood quietly beside the screen while Coulson spoke to Weaver and Oliver. He was out of camera range, unseen but listening. He rolled his eyes when Oliver suggested that Skye could compromise SHIELD. It was true, she could. But she wouldn’t.

Like Coulson, Brock was surprised when Mack spoke against a direct attack on Afterlife. But Brock agreed with him silently. The situation needed to be settled, but war on another front wasn’t what SHIELD needed. And while Brock had his fill of taking orders blindly and following leaders on faith and trust, a lot of the Inhumans he’d met still had that idealistic trust. Their people had been hidden for so long…

“Why didn’t you tell them I was here?” Brock asked when Coulson broke the connection. He’d mentioned Skye’s father, but not her soulmate.

Coulson gave him a tight smile. “Because they don’t trust you. Well, Mack might. But Weaver and Oliver don’t. They don’t trust Skye, either.”

Brock couldn’t help but scowl at that.

“I know, I know.” Coulson sighed wearily. “Are you - relaying all of this to Skye?” he made a vague gesture.

“What I can. Long-range attenuates the signal somewhat. We can’t see through each other’s eyes all that clearly - it’s sort of vague and wavery. I couldn’t show her the camera evidence of Gordon and his buddy stealing the quinjet, for example, but I let her know that was what went down. She’s very suspicious now.”

“But she has no idea what the Inhumans - what Gordon and Jiaying - plan to do next?”

“No. Absolutely none.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone was talking in riddles; Skye couldn’t get a direct answer out of Jiaying or Gordon, and Lincoln seemed as bemused as she was. Why not go to the mistress of riddles? She sighed, hand on the door, and then pushed it open.

“You knew, didn’t you? Your visions... you saw fire, destruction. You knew it would all fall apart.”

All Raina seemed to want to talk about was flowers. Skye gritted her teeth and asked the question she really wanted answered. “What did you say to Brock? He told me to talk to you, and I’m pretty sure that he didn’t mean for you to tell me about botany.”

Raina looked her in the eye for a long moment. “You’re lucky to have him,” she said quietly at last. “A soulmate is a gift even greater than the powers we’ve been blessed with, and such a man as that - he’d tear the world apart for you, if he had to.”

“What did you tell him?” Skye cried at last, exasperated beyond bearing.

“We all have our destinies. Yours and his are intertwined into the future, just as yours and mine have been in the past. The thread breaks now between us, though.”

“Raina!”

She smiled, a sad little smile. “My true purpose - my destiny - is to help you become what you’re supposed to be.”

“Why the hell did I even come here?” Skye said angrily, turning towards the door. I’m not getting any answers here. Just more fucking riddles.

“Because you want answers,” Raina replied. “You’re just not willing to hear them. In fact, we’ll never speak to each other again. But you’ll see. Your mother… she’s not leading our people. She’s misleading them. It’s you who are destined to lead, with your consort by your side.”

Skye scoffed at that, but Raina shook her head, almost sadly.

“Even in the darkness, you’ll see the truth,” she said softly before turning away and drawing her hood up to conceal her spined head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raina was right. It was the only thing that Skye could think as she watched with utter horror, watched Raina’s lifeless body crumple at Jiaying’s feet.

“What did you do?” she cried out, shocked, even as her mind sought frantically for Brock’s. He was there instantly, linking with her, lending her his calm strength as she argued with her mother, tried to get her to understand that war with SHIELD would only lead to utter disaster.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Jiaying said finally, and Brock, using Skye’s senses, was suddenly alerted that there was someone behind her. She moved - but not fast enough, and the last thing she knew was his sudden spike of rage as she crashed unconscious to the ground.

“Restrain her,” Jiaying ordered calmly. “Take her with you. When this is over, hopefully she’ll understand - and we may need to use her as a hostage to keep Rumlow in check. He’s powerful enough to thwart our plans if we don’t watch out for him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yes. Rumlow is definitely a threat to your plans, Jiaying. And holding Skye hostage will not help your case in his eyes. At all.


	50. We Both Love Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiaying makes her move, and Cal must choose which side to take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter occur during Season 2, Episodes 21 + 22, and may use dialogue from these episodes._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%2019_zps7qnkbmsh.jpg.html)

“God fucking _damn_ it!” Brock shot to his feet, startling Coulson. “Jiaying’s making a move, and she knows Skye isn’t on her side.”

“Have they hurt her?” Phil stood quickly.

“She’s unconscious, but that’s all. Fuck,” Brock paced, snarling. “What the hell is Jiaying planning?”

“Well,” Phil said slowly, “There’s one person who might know.”

“Cal.” They looked at each other, and then headed in unison for the door.

Cal… did not seem well. He was shivering, even though the Vault was at a comfortable temperature. And moments later sweating, begging for water. Brock shared a concerned glance with Phil. Provided the water and watched, bemused, as Cal poured it over his head instead of drinking.

“Why are you here, Cal?” Brock asked. “Why did Jiaying send you?”

“She told you. As a peace offering.” Cal’s smile was manic. “You were there. You heard her.”

“I saw the vials of drugs you took, too. What was in them?”

“A little bit of this and a little bit of that,” Cal sing-songed merrily. “You know how it goes, Brock. What did HYDRA put into _you_?”

Brock didn’t think twice before hitting the button on the tablet to silence Cal, and to make sure he couldn’t hear them. “Phil, we’ve got a serious problem here. I think he’s here to be a distraction. To keep us busy while Jiaying goes for the main prize.”

“Which is what?” Phil shook his head, baffled, returned his gaze to the man pacing and sweating behind the force barrier. “You heard what Simmons found in those vials. The steroids, the methamphetamines, God only knows what else. If he dies…”

“If he dies, Skye will never forgive us,” Brock said miserably.

Cal was mouthing something. Phil hit the button to unmute him.

“May I have another glass, to drink?” Cal put the glass on the floor by the port in the barrier.

“That depends on your co-operation,” Phil said coolly. “Your wife assassinated a high-ranking SHIELD officer, then staged it to make it look like we attacked them.”

“They just want to live in peace,” Cal said, and Brock snapped.

“Wake up, Cal!” he yelled furiously. “Jiaying’s trying to start a war, and your daughter is going to be caught right in the fucking middle of it!”

“I don’t believe you,” Cal shook his head, still smiling faintly. “Neither of us would ever do anything to hurt Daisy.”

“Which is why Jiaying had her knocked unconscious when Sk- when _Daisy_ caught her out, is it?” Brock snarled back.

“Wh-what?” Cal blinked.

“She murdered Raina, and she sent you here amped up on whatever the fuck is in that nasty cocktail of shit you took, and then she had Daisy knocked unconscious when she refused to go along with her plans,” Brock said coldly.

“No, no,” Cal shook his head. “I’m here for something else entirely. I took those of my own free will. I failed to protect Daisy, you see. I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t born Inhuman like you. So I started experimenting. I’d make myself superhuman. I never got the formula quite right, though, always missing something. Made me a little unstable. Which is why I’m so curious what HYDRA did to _you_.”

“It only worked on me because I was born Inhuman, I think,” Brock admitted. “All the others went mad, to one degree or another.”

“Ah,” Cal nodded. “Maybe that’s why. Hmm. Powers not meant for mortal man, and all that.”

“You’re here to take out some SHIELD agents,” Phil said, suddenly realising what Cal meant to do.

“No,” Cal smiled at him broadly. “No. I’m here to take out as many as I can.”

“These are Daisy’s friends!” Brock snapped at him. “If you hurt any of them, she will never forgive you. And _I_ will go up against you. I will stop you. How do you think she’ll react if you hurt me? If you kill her soulmate?”

That froze Cal. He stared at Brock for a long, long moment.

“This was Jiaying’s idea, wasn’t it?” Brock said. “She put this into your head. She didn’t care if it killed you. She’s using you to do her dirty work.”

“Lies,” Cal said, but his voice sounded weak.

“You’ve always done her dirty work. _She’s_ the _real_ monster.”

“She’s not like me.”

“No. She’s _worse_ ,” Brock replied remorselessly.

“ _She’s not a monster!_ ” Cal screamed it, frothing at the mouth. The vitals monitor on his wrist started beeping frantically, a couple of seconds before he collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut.

“Shit!” Phil and Brock yelled in unison, and then Phil hit the button to drop the screen and they both leaped forward to check on the unconscious man.

“No pulse!”  Brock gasped, horrified, scooped Cal up and ran for the stairs. “Alert Simmons!” he yelled over his shoulder to Phil.

By the time Phil got to the med centre, Brock and Jemma were already frantically trying to revive Cal.

“He’s Skye’s father, we can’t lose him,”  Brock panted desperately. “Come on, Jemma…”

“Get me an adrenaline injector, one milligram,” Jemma snapped. Fitz scrabbled hastily, but Brock was quicker, handing the syringe to Jemma and watching as she slammed it into Cal’s lifeless form.

Dark brown eyes suddenly popped open, and Cal took a huge breath. There was something _wrong_ with the way he looked, though, and Brock instinctively pushed Jemma and Fitz back towards Coulson, putting himself between Cal and the more vulnerable agents.

“ _This_ is what I was missing,” Cal said, in tones of great enlightenment.

“Cal,” Brock said steadily, “you need to calm down.”

“This is me calm, Brock.” Cal smiled, but his eyes were looking past Brock, at Phil. Veins were bulging in his neck, his face oddly misshapen.

“Get out,” Brock didn’t look at the others, just moved his hand in a quick gesture. “Now.”

Cal flung a tray of instruments to one side and stepped forward, his grin growing more manic still.

Phil grabbed Jemma and Fitz and pulled them backwards.

“What if he kills Rumlow?” Fitz gasped, horrified. “Skye’s father and her soulmate…”

“I’m open to suggestions!” Phil said desperately.

“ICERS are a good start!”

“I’m not hopeful that they’ll do anything but piss him off!”

The three of them grabbed up the guns, scattered around the room, lining up on Cal as he advanced towards Brock. They all pulled the triggers at the same time, saw the rounds hit, and… nothing.

“Uh-oh,” Cal cocked his head. “There goes the feeling in my legs.” He turned towards Phil, smiled maliciously. “You’ll be first.”

“Run!” Brock roared, and this time they obeyed, scattering and fleeing the lab as Brock closed with Cal.

“You don’t want to do this, Cal,” Brock snarled, grappling with the older man. _Shit_ , but he was strong; at least Brock’s equal, maybe even approaching what Cap could do.

“Yes, yes I do, I want to kill them,” there was no sanity in Cal’s eyes.

“Daisy will hate you forever if you kill her friends, you madman!” Brock bellowed in his face as he felt his grip loosening. He suspected that the only reason Cal hadn’t ripped his throat out was because some small part of him remained aware enough to know that killing Brock might kill Skye too.

Cal snarled madly.

“Jiaying has done this, don’t you see? You’re doing her dirty work, but she’s making sure Daisy hates you at the same time. She’s turning your daughter against you, Cal! She’ll do her best to get rid of me next.”

Cal’s grip actually weakened. “She can’t kill you. It would destroy Daisy. Jiaying would never hurt her. We both love her too much. We’re a family.”

“Your wife is a monster, Cal!” Brock shouted in his face. “We both know it! Just like you know I could have killed you already - but I _can’t_ , because it would hurt Daisy too much.” He let a little of his power loose, and his eyes began to glow. “I could blind you, though. Stop this fight here and now.”

The other man’s grip was weakening further, the madness fading from his eyes, and Brock spoke more gently.

“You’re not a monster, Cal, no matter what you think you’ve made yourself into. You’ve done it all for love of your family, for love of your daughter, and _she’s worth it,_ I _agree_ with you. But Daisy would not want this. Jiaying is out for blood, and you know your daughter, you know her compassion; she got that from _you_. She’ll never go along with Jiaying’s plans and that puts her in danger!”

“I… promised to protect her,” Cal almost sobbed it.

“And you did. You _have_. Help _me_ protect her again, Cal. We can do this together. But the one she needs protecting from now is _Jiaying_.”

They stared at each other, and then Cal said “You love Daisy.”

“With every fiber of my being. We _both_ love her, Cal. _Help me_. She’d hate to see us fight. And if you keep on with this quest against SHIELD, we _will_ fight, because I _will_ stop you.”

Cal’s head dropped. Brock released his hold, stepped back. “Tell me what Jiaying’s doing.”

“She’s attacking the _Iliad_ ,” Coulson said grimly from the doorway. “We have to go. Now. Cal, are you with us?”

“Yes,” Cal said raggedly. “Yes - I’m with you. Let’s go protect our Daisy,” he said to Brock, who nodded.

“You can tell us what you know about Jiaying and her plans on the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye woke - in a cell. In a very unfamiliar place. Blinking, she scrambled to her feet, trying to get her thoughts in order, reaching out for Brock. It wasn’t until she was grasping hold of the bars of the cell door that she saw the gauntlets on her hands.

Brock was there at once, in the back of her mind, and she could tell he was coming closer. _You okay, baby?_

 _I’m locked in. I can’t use my power. And I don’t know where I am…_ she gasped as she saw a familiar figure approaching outside the cell. “Mack!” she called out. “Oh, thank God.”

 _Stay with him, baby, I’m on my way._ Brock leaned harder on the quinjet controls, driving the jet on, his teeth gritted. “Come on,” he hissed, “come on, come on…”

“Easy,” May said quietly from the co-pilot’s seat. For once, she hadn’t insisted on flying, recognising Brock’s desperate need to be _doing_ something. He’d seen her face, too, as she and Hunter brought Bobbi in, horrifically wounded. Left Jemma and the rest of the medical staff working frantically to save her life.

“I need to make a call,” May said quietly then. Brock glanced sideways at her. “A personal call.”

“Go ahead,” he said gently. “I won’t listen.”

She knew very well that he couldn’t possibly avoid overhearing every word that she said. It was a measure of her trust that he would never repeat any of it that had her reaching for her headset. A moment later she said “Andrew?” and Brock did his level best to tune out, focus on the ocean blurring by beneath the quinjet’s wings.

 _It’s a trap, Brock,_ Skye said suddenly into his mind. _Jiaying’s trying to lure in as many SHIELD agents as she can get. You have to turn them around._

“Will do. Sir!” he called back to Coulson. “Got some information for you!”

Skye relayed information to Brock constantly as she and Mack sneaked around the huge ship. But he and Coulson’s team might not get there in time; it would be down to her and Mack to stop Gordon and Jiaying from releasing the crystals. She sent Mack to the fan room, relayed the information to Brock, and set off to hunt down Jiaying.

Brock let May land the quinjet. It meant he was out and running faster, glad he’d been on the _Iliad_ before and had a pretty good idea of Skye’s location. This close, he could link with her tightly, her vision overlaid on his in a curious double image. For a moment he thought that was the reason he suddenly saw two of Alisha facing Skye, but then there were three, then four… he cursed and ran faster.

By the time he got there, Lincoln had joined in the fight at Skye’s side. Brock’s arrival ended it fast, and he grabbed hold of Skye.

“You okay, baby?” he asked aloud, even though he knew she wasn’t hurt. Eyeing Lincoln cautiously, he reached for Skye’s gauntlets.

“Let me, I can get them off,” Lincoln offered.

“You with us, or Jiaying?” Brock demanded.

“With you. I’m sorry. I - I didn’t know what she planned. Those poor people.”

“We have to stop her or there will be a lot more,” Skye said as the rings around her arms clattered to the floor and Brock helped her peel the gauntlets off.

“I’ll stay here. There will be more Alishas coming,” Lincoln said grimly, “none of these was the source. I can fight her.”

Brock nodded. “We’ll get you backup. Come on, Skye!” The pair of them raced off down the corridor, Brock speaking into his com, telling May to get to Lincoln, that the young Inhuman was on their side but might need fighting support.

“On my way,” May said crisply. “Coulson and Fitz are going to the fan room. They’ll stop the teleporter there.”

Skye tried not to think about how kind Gordon had been to her when she was frightened and ran faster.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Poor Skye. At least this time she had Brock to help her see the truth, and to bolster her while dealing with the fallout.**
> 
>  
> 
>  


	51. Oh, No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Brock must stop Jiaying releasing the crystals - by any means necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter occur during Season 2, Episode 22, and may use dialogue from this episode._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/greyscale_zpsvycwbgpi.jpg.html)

Skye screamed with horror as they emerged onto the carrier’s deck and she and Brock saw two Inhumans loading the container of contaminated crystals onto the quinjet. “No! Brock, we’ve got to stop them, those crystals are contaminated, they could kill _millions_!”

He didn’t hesitate. Just ran towards the quinjet, pulling his guns from his weapons harness and pulling the triggers.

“Fuck!” he hissed as one of the Inhumans flung up his hand, generating some sort of bluish force shield; the bullets slowed to a fraction of their speed as they penetrated, dropping to the ground before reaching their targets. “Powers it is, then.” But his were so new, compared to these… well. He gritted his teeth, prepared to focus.

And screamed with pain as Jiaying sent Skye to her knees, sucking the life out of her. The bond between them weakened horrifically and Brock went down too, struggling to breathe.

_Stop them,_ Skye whispered weakly in his mind, and he groaned with agony, desperate to look back, to help her, but she was too far away, he’d run too fast.

_Love you, baby, hold on_ , he thought back, and he gathered everything he had and sent a blast of pure rage from his eyes.

The two Inhumans were literally vaporised; one moment there were two men standing there and the next nothing but ashes blowing on the stiff sea wind over the carrier’s deck. The container of crystals fell from the quinjet’s half-raised ramp to land harmlessly, still sealed, on the deck.

Agonised by the effort, the pain and burning he still felt when he used his power to such an extent along with Skye’s agony, Brock was momentarily stunned. A second later, though, Skye’s physical pain was gone, replaced almost instantly by intense emotional distress.

“Skye,” almost blinded by the aftereffects of using his power so strongly, Brock still turned unerringly towards her, staggered to his feet and stumbled in her direction.

“Brock,” she sobbed, falling into his arms, and as his vision cleared he saw what had distressed her so.

Cal, holding Jiaying’s lifeless body tenderly in his arms, his hands still about her twisted, broken neck.

“Oh, _no_ ,” was all Brock could say disbelievingly.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Cal whispered tenderly to Jiaying.

Skye sobbed in Brock’s arms. He stood there frozen, barely able to believe what had just happened. Incredulous.

Skye’s _father_ had just killed her _mother_ to save his daughter. Killed his former soulmate, no less.

There was nothing he could say. Nothing that wouldn’t be hopelessly trite like _I’m sorry_ or appallingly inappropriate, like _Thank you._ So instead he just held Skye close, stroking her hair while she sobbed out her grief, and watched Cal grieve for his lost love.

Brock’s earpiece crackled then.

“Rumlow?” It was Mack’s voice.

“Here,” he acknowledged quietly. “We’re secured topside. Everything all right down there?”

Mack made an odd sound. “Well, the fan room’s secured. Um. I had to cut off Coulson’s hand. Fitz is patching him up, we need medical support. I spoke to May, she’s gone to get help…”

When Skye’s sobs finally eased up, she shifted in Brock’s arms and he let her go. She gave him a watery smile as she took his hand. She refused to let him go as she went to sit on the deck beside Cal and Brock knelt beside them both, silently watching, holding Skye’s hand against his heart. “Dad…” Skye whispered, leaning her head on Cal’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Don’t be,” he said after a long moment. Cal lowered Jiaying to the deck and wrapped an arm around Skye. “I’m sorry you had to go through this, Daisy. We… we were supposed to protect you. Never to hurt you.”

Skye let her father tenderly wipe the traces of tears off her face. “I couldn’t let her… do what she wanted,” Skye murmured, heart-wrenching grief in her eyes and her voice. “It was wrong. I wanted to help, I wanted her to be proud of me. But I couldn’t let her kill people just for being human.”

“I know, angel,” Cal said reassuringly, pulling her close. “She lost something, _we_ lost something when we lost you. We lost ourselves.” Brock released Skye’s hand so she could hug Cal but he stayed nearby, knowing she wanted him close. “But I _am_ proud of you, Daisy. Very proud.”

Tears filled Skye’s eyes again as her father held her and told her the one thing she’d always wanted to hear.

A short time later, Skye managed to pull herself together enough to meet with her team. Her eyes were red, but her expression was calm. She knew she couldn’t hide the whirling storm of emotions from Brock, but she also knew he wouldn’t say anything to anyone else. She just had to get through the wrap-up on the _Iliad_ , get back to the Playground, and then she could give in to grief for a little while.

Lincoln had cauterised Coulson’s arm, but he was in a state of shock and Agent Weaver, now back in command of the _Iliad_ , ordered him sedated in the medical bay. Brock, Lincoln and Skye took charge of the two cases of crystals, putting them in the secure hold next to the one that held the case with the strange black rock. Weaver detailed armed guards to both holds, though Lincoln swore that with Gordon dead, the other Inhumans had no way to get to the carrier even if they wished to carry through with the attack.

Cal and Alisha, they locked in two separated cells in the ship’s brig - with Cal’s full co-operation. Lincoln was pretty certain that Alisha couldn’t clone herself through walls, but just in case, he volunteered to guard her - since he wasn’t a SHIELD agent and wouldn’t be permitted to attend the debrief. They left him with armed guards to back him up - and to keep an eye on _him_ , just in case he should happen to change his mind - before convening in a large conference room.

May and Weaver ran the debrief. Weaver was as shocked and grieving as any of them; she’d lost two close friends and colleagues in the last couple of days with Gonzales and Agent Oliver both killed. But she was a highly intelligent woman and she listened carefully as Brock detailed the suspicions he’d had of Jiaying from the moment he met her, and how they’d coalesced into certainty with Gonzales’ death.

“I do understand, Agent Skye,” Weaver said at last, looking at Skye, who was sitting with her head bowed, hand clasped tightly in Brock’s. “And I’m truly sorry.”

Her tone was genuinely kind and Skye glanced up to meet Weaver’s eyes for a moment, seeing only concern tinged with regret. She nodded before looking down again, a lump in her throat meaning she wasn’t able to speak. Weaver nodded to Brock to continue, and he obeyed, grateful that Weaver wasn’t going to push Skye. At some point they’d have to hear her account of what had happened in Afterlife once he’d left her there, but it could wait.

May spoke up next, filling everyone in on Ward and Palamas’ kidnapping and torture of Bobbi, and how Bobbi had grievously injured herself in saving Hunter from the trap set for whoever came to rescue her.

“But where are they now?” Mack demanded angrily, and Brock was reminded how close he and Bobbi were.

“I don’t know. I did my best to trick Palamas into thinking we had men elsewhere in the building and to masquerade as me again in order to ambush them. That area of the building, though, had proved to be lethal to our forces and it’s possible that’s where Ward was holed up. With any luck they ended up fighting each other. Bobbi was too seriously injured for us to wait around to find out, though.”

“Is she going to be all right?” Skye asked tearfully.

“I honestly don’t know,” May confessed. “She - she was pretty bad. I contacted the Playground, but Simmons still had her in surgery and Hunter was in no fit shape to talk about it.”

They were all silent for a moment, thinking of their friend, before Weaver visibly gathered herself and turned to Mack. “Agent Mackenzie. Your report, please.”

The most shocking part of Mack’s report wasn’t even hearing about him having to cut Coulson’s hand off when Coulson grabbed the falling crystal. That was almost anticlimactic after hearing that Fitz had been the one to kill Gordon.

“It was an accident,” Fitz admitted when they all looked at him in shock.

Mack rested a huge hand on Fitz’s shoulder. “You, my friend, saved the day. He was kickin’ our asses. I’m very relieved you got him, because otherwise sooner rather than later it would have been one of _us_ dead on the floor, and I reckon he’d have beaten us all and released those crystals. We’d _all_ be dead, probably, except you two,” he nodded to Skye and Brock.

Skye shuddered at the thought. Weaver nodded. “You deserve a commendation, Agent Fitz, and I shall make it my business to see that you get one.”

Fitz blushed as everyone around the table nodded and murmured agreement.

“They all deserve it,” May spoke up. “Mack for defending the fan room against the teleporter, Rumlow and Skye for stopping the quinjet taking off to who knows where with the other lot of crystals.”

“I agree,” Weaver said, “and we owe the Inhuman Lincoln our thanks, too, from what you’re telling me. The old SHIELD had a habit of not acknowledging bravery above and beyond the call of duty. You may say ‘it’s just our job’ all you like, but all of you showed extraordinary courage and dedication today, and I will not see it go unrecognised.”

“I understand why Jemma and Fitz always talked about her with such reverence in their voices now,” Skye murmured quietly to Brock as they finally left the conference room a little while later. “She’d have been an amazing principal at SciTech Academy. I wish I’d had a few more teachers like that during my school days.”

Brock smiled an acknowledgement, nodding, but didn’t speak until they were out of earshot of the others. “You’re right about Weaver. Which is why I’m so bemused as to what the hell she was thinking when she and Agent Oliver backed Gonzales in this ‘coup’ against Coulson. I fully intend to ask her about it when I get an opportunity to talk to her in private. Morse, too.”

“If Bobbi recovers,” Skye murmured, biting her lip. “I can’t - what Ward did to her…” Tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t know that he was capable of something like that. For personal vengeance! I know Specialists are trained to do - well, some pretty terrible things - but they’re under orders, aren’t they? Aren’t they _supposed_ to be, anyway?”

“Yes,” Brock acknowledged quietly. “I’ve done similar terrible things. I’m sure you know that, though you’ve never asked and frankly I don’t want to tell you. But yes, I have only ever done them on someone else’s orders.” He thought of Ian Quinn with brief guilt - but he _never_ intended to tell Skye about that. And it _had_ bought SHIELD information that led to the failure of Project Insight, so he felt it was justified. “I’ve refused, too.”

“You have?” she blinked, looking up at him.

“Yup. There’ve been cases where I was basically one hundred percent sure that it wouldn’t get us any further information. And I said so and refused.” He grinned at her slightly surprised expression. “Orders from both SHIELD and HYDRA commanders, too. Generally I felt that they were looking for personal vengeance rather than seeking to further genuine mission goals, and I declined to carry out their dirty work - and reported it further up the line.”

Skye smiled a little tremulously and nodded. “I’m glad. I won’t ask about the things you’ve done. I trust that you’ll tell me if I ever need to know, and I won’t put you through the pain of telling me without reason.”

“If there’s ever a need for you to know, I’ll tell you,” he agreed in a low tone. “Are you gonna talk to me about what’s really bothering you?”

Skye bit her lip, then sighed. “I will, but not… not _here_. I can’t.”

“Okay, sweetheart. When you’re ready.” Brock didn’t push, and she smiled gratefully.

“I need to talk to Coulson, anyway. I need to find out what he intends to do about Dad.”

“That can wait until he’s out of the infirmary,” Brock said gently. “If you don’t want to talk here, you should try to get some rest.” He paused for a heartbeat, sensing the chaos still swirling in the back of her mind. “Or maybe talk to May, spend some time on tai chi.”

“I don’t think I could sleep just now. But… I owe May an apology.”

“Then let’s go find her.” There were only about three places Brock figured May would be; they found her in the first of those places, checking on Coulson.

“How is he?” Skye asked in a soft voice, stepping up to the side of Coulson’s bed when she realized he was asleep.

“The pain meds put him out. Sleep is the best thing for him now,” May answered just as quietly. She watched as Skye tenderly adjusted the blankets over Phil.

“She wasn’t anything like what I wanted her to be,” Skye whispered after a moment of silence. She didn’t look away from Phil at first, but she knew May heard. “I hoped, dreamed for so long… but it wasn’t real. I wanted her to love me, but she couldn’t. Not like…” She looked up at May, and grief-filled dark eyes met May’s stoic gaze.

After a moment of intense study, May’s expression softened. “Come here,” she said as she stepped away from Coulson’s bedside. Skye moved around the infirmary bed to join May and was startled when the older woman drew her into a warm embrace.

Skye wrapped her arms around her mentor, hiding her face in the older agent’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, voice choked with tears.

“I know,” May murmured back, stroking Skye’s hair gently. They held there for a moment while Skye got her emotions back under control. “Come on. I know where we can go.”

Brock followed silently as May led Skye through the maze of corridors inside the ship. They emerged into a large workout room and May tugged Skye over to the mats. When May took up the opening stance for their usual tai chi workout, Skye smiled just a bit and fell into place. Brock sent her a silent touch of approval and left the two women to their meditation.

Closing the door behind him he blew out his cheeks in a sigh. _Where to start?_

_Lincoln_ , he decided. _Go check on Lincoln. Talk to Cal, while I’m down there. See if Alisha’s come round yet and whether she’s prepared to be reasonable._

There were so many questions he needed answers to. How many Inhumans were there, and _where_ were they? What were their powers? Were they dangerous, did any of them have a personal grudge against SHIELD, or HYDRA? Were there any more of those contaminated crystals around, or any Diviners? Did the Inhumans have some way to identify potential others of their people, other than exposing them to the mists?

Brock remembered Lincoln mentioning that Jiaying had ‘found’ him in a bad situation. Had she traced his lineage? And… what about Brock’s father? It was quite possible he was still alive somewhere. Brock might even have _siblings_.

_Too many questions, and I have no answers. And no authority to make decisions even if I did. Wake up soon, Coulson, we need your calm analytical brain working on this._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Not much of S2 left, just a few loose ends to tie up. But we’re not done yet!**
> 
> **Come and chat to both of us on Tumblr if you didn’t already! We’re @ozhawkauthor and @ladywinterlight! You’re welcome to ask us questions about our headcanons for this story, but be warned we do not let out any spoilers...**


	52. It Wasn't Supposed To Be Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team return to the Playground and start working towards a plan for dealing with the Inhumans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Events of this chapter occur during and after Season 2, Episode 22, and may use dialogue from this episode._

I can't help it. I just love the expression in his eyes! 

* * *

 

“I don’t care where you take them, but they can’t stay here.” Weaver’s tone was hard, determined. “Get them off my ship.”

May nodded. “We can secure them at the Playground. Better medical facilities for Coulson there, too.”

“I know. The medics say he’s stable enough to be moved now.” Agent Weaver sighed, relaxing somewhat as the anticipated argument failed to materialize.

“We’ll need to make sure we stay in contact while Coulson is recovering,” May added calmly. “The council is fairly decimated, but I think between us we can keep things running smoothly until he’s fit enough to take over again.”

Weaver sighed again but nodded. “We’ll have to work something out when he’s well, but yes, I agree that for now we should be able to manage.”

“I’ll give my team the word, then,” May replied briskly. With a polite nod, she left the bridge to Weaver. It wouldn’t take her team long to gather up records, prisoners and those cases full of crystals. May was in full agreement with Skye; the crystals were too dangerous to keep unsecured, but they couldn’t just shatter them all either. Vault B should be secure enough, at least for the short term.

The last trip to the quinjets included Coulson on a stretcher. He was deeply asleep, under heavy medication to make the transition easier on him. Coulson and the cases of crystals were on one jet and the prisoners on the other. Skye and Lincoln would watch over him, while Brock kept a watchful eye on Cal and the Inhumans.

Thankfully, the journey was uneventful. Alisha was still spitting mad, but Lincoln had suggested putting the inhibitor gauntlets that Jiaying and Gordon had put on Skye on the redhead, and it did seem to have restricted her from cloning. Brock wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating her, though. The redhead was a dangerous opponent even without her ability.

“Fuck off,” she snarled at him as he came over to detach her from the quinjet’s prisoner securing points.

Brock shrugged at Alisha, pulling her to her feet. “Frankly, you can sleep here on the metal floor for all I care. But SHIELD are more into giving you a bed and three square meals a day while they decide what to do with you.”

Alisha scowled at him, but she also allowed him to tow her along to Vault D without resisting. May followed along silently; managed the screens as Brock sent Alisha to her knees and unfastened her cuffs before releasing the inhibitor bands.

“You can clone yourself inside the barrier if you want to,” he said quietly, “but I wouldn’t recommend trying to pass through it if I were you. Your every move will be watched anyway.” He nodded towards a surveillance camera in an upper corner of the vault.

She glared at him, her eyes snapping hate, but nodded grudgingly, waited until he’d stepped back and May had raised the screen again before peeling the gauntlets off and throwing them aside.

“Do you think she’ll come around?” May asked quietly as they left the Vault.

“I’ve no idea,” Brock admitted. “I’ve only exchanged a few words with her before today. We’ll need to understand her motives, why she chose to follow along with Jiaying’s plan. Perhaps she’ll talk to Skye, when she’s feeling better.”

“I thought Skye would be here for this.”

“She’s taking Cal to secure quarters. He’s cooperating, so we didn’t see any need to put him in a holding cell. I believe Lincoln will be quartered nearby; he’ll have an escort, as any non-SHIELD guest would, but he’s not a bad kid.”

“That’s the one who helped us on the ship, right? The medic?”

Brock nodded. “His attitude is a lot like Skye’s; there’s little he won’t do to protect people he cares about, but what Jiaying was planning went too far beyond that. He’s not a killer.”

May accepted the comparison without a word, just considering the situation. There was a lot of potential in the Inhumans, and doubtless Coulson had some ideas already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lincoln waited in the hall with the guards while Skye got Cal settled into his room. When she emerged and they continued down the hall, he noticed that some of the guards still followed. “So, are we all prisoners now?” he asked, his tone defensive.

“Of course not.” Skye shook her head. “All non-agents have an escort while on base. Among other things, this place is huge and with an escort you never get lost. Here,” she held out a key card. When he took it, she nodded to the reader beside the door. “This will let you into your room anytime. It will also let you into the gym and the base’s leisure areas, should they be locked. We’re mostly pretty casual, and not a lot of people lock their offices or whatever unless they’re not there.”

Lincoln swiped the key and walked into the room. Skye leaned against the doorway. “It’s not much, but at least the beds are comfortable.”

“How long do I have to stay here?” he asked.

“You don’t. If you really want to leave, I’ll arrange transport to get you home, wherever that is for you. But I’m hoping you’ll stay, at least for a while.”

“Why?”

Skye sighed and stepped into the room so their conversation could stay private. “Two reasons. Firstly, I’d like your help. I don’t want our people to be counted enemies of SHIELD - or of anyone, really. I know most of them weren’t involved in my mom’s vendetta. Also, with her and Gordon gone - how do we go about figuring out who has the potential to change? We have the crystals; we can still make it happen if people want to. You know way more about the Inhumans, and being an Inhuman, than I do, Lincoln.”

Lincoln just stared at her. “I didn’t think SHIELD would let us continue to change people. To train them, to teach them about what they are and what they could be.”

“SHIELD doesn’t actually have anything against people with powers,” Skye replied with a smile. “As long as we don’t use them to hurt people, Director Coulson is willing to live and let live. I’d like to see it be more than that, though, if possible. If we can put together a system to keep tabs on our own people I think he’ll be willing to work with us, especially if we can help against other people with strange powers or artificially created super powers.”

“Will he let us have Afterlife back? All our equipment is there, and we really do need the isolation to train people with dangerous powers.”

Skye shrugged. “I can talk to Coulson about it. I know he’ll agree that we can’t really train people here; it didn’t work so well for Brock and I.” She smirked and he laughed.

“Alright, Skye. I’ll… give this a chance. But… what about the Index?”

“What about it?”

“Will you force everyone onto it?”

“What is is that you specifically object to?” Skye asked after a moment. “It seemed to me that mom and Gordon knew every Inhuman and all their powers. You certainly had enough medical information on Brock and I when we were there. What’s the difference?”

That made Lincoln pause, and he thought about it for a long moment. “I guess because I trusted them. It didn’t bother me that our people knew about each other.”

“Would you feel better if the Index were similarly restricted? If it were limited to, say, the governing council and whoever they assign as liaison to the Inhumans?”

“What makes you think they’d do that?”

Skye smiled. “Coulson really is a decent man, you know. If we can bring him good, solid reasons to do something like that then he will at least consider it.”

“I… guess we’ll see, then.” Lincoln sighed. “For so long, we believed that SHIELD was the enemy. Get tangled up with them and they’ll run you through a million tests and then put us all on the Index. If they didn’t just kill us outright.”

Skye shook her head. “Maybe under the old SHIELD, when so much of the organization was made up of HYDRA infiltrators. But not anymore. We’re different now.”

Lincoln chewed on his lip thoughtfully, pacing slowly around the room. “I think I can trust you, Skye. And Brock. But the others - you’ll have to give me some time.”

“We can do that. As long as you aren’t being actively antagonistic - as long as you’ll help us with Alisha, for a start, maybe try to talk her down - then I can pretty much guarantee that nobody here will have a problem with you. And if they do, they can take it up with me.”

Lincoln looked at her - small, fierce, bloodied and grieving - and nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

Skye gave him a wry little smile. “You’re welcome. I’ll send someone by with some clean clothes for you.”

All she really wanted was to fall into bed with Brock and sleep in his arms for about a week. But there was at least one thing that she had to do first.

She found Jemma fussing over Phil in the medical bay. Phil was deeply asleep again, and Jemma was examining the stump of his arm, tears running down her cheeks.

“He saved hundreds of lives, Jemma,” Skye said quietly.

“Oh, _Skye_ ,” Jemma flung herself at her friend, and the two girls hugged tightly. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” Jemma mumbled into her hair. “Please don’t go away like that again. When Rumlow came back without you, I thought… I don’t know what I thought… just please don’t.”

“I’ll try.” They stayed clasped tightly together for several minutes, and then Skye asked quietly, “How’s Bobbi?”

“Oh,” Jemma’s tears broke free again and began to slide down her cheeks. “She’s - she’s pretty bad. Her left lung was collapsed and badly damaged, and her knee - I did my best but I think she’s going to need a new knee joint.”

Skye’s own tears joined Jemma’s. “I can’t believe that Ward would do that.”

“I can,” Jemma said fiercely. “I’m so angry with myself, if I’d just managed to kill him instead of Bakshi in that HYDRA base…”

“ _What?_ ” Skye gasped. “ _You_ killed Bakshi?”

Jemma hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Rumlow didn’t tell you? He saw it. I was trying for Ward. And I wish I’d managed it, because then Bobbi wouldn’t be at death’s door and Hunter wouldn’t have completely fallen apart because he loves her so much.” She began to re-wrap Coulson’s stump deftly, not looking at Skye.

Skye hugged herself silently, watching Jemma as she carefully tucked Coulson’s arm back under the bedcovers and checked his monitors before turning to Skye.

“Do you want to see Bobbi?” Jemma asked quietly.

“I think I should. I - the last time I saw her - I might have killed someone.”

“Agent Calderon? He’s not dead.”

Skye sighed with relief as Jemma led her to another medical suite, where they found Hunter asleep in the chair by Bobbi’s bed. From the dirty combat gear and the thick growth of stubble, Skye suspected he hadn’t moved from that spot since they arrived back at the base.

Bobbi’s face looked almost grey. Blood plasma was transfusing into her through an IV in her arm; Jemma told Skye quietly that she’d lost a dangerous amount of blood. Bobbi’s eyes opened slightly as she heard voices, and she blinked a little blearily at them before recognising Skye. Her blue eyes opened wider, cracked dry lips parted, and she whispered;

“I tried to stop him…”

“Shh,” Skye hurried to her side, leaning close. “Please, Bobbi. It’s okay, I’m okay. I’m - I’m so sorry this has happened.”

“My own fault,” Bobbi whispered.

“No it fucking well wasn’t,” Hunter growled, and Skye looked across to see the former mercenary’s eyes open as he sat up straight. “ _You_ followed orders, nothin’ more, and you had no way to know Palamas would be caught up, nor that she’d been brainwashed when you saw her working with HYDRA. Ward, that fucking maniac, and his crazy bitch of a girlfriend, they’re so far off the fuckin’ deep end...” he shook his head, skin drawn tight across his cheekbones. “I’m going after them as soon as I’m sure you’re not going to die on me, angel.”

“Hunter, no,” Bobbi whispered, and to Skye’s horror she saw tears starting in the older agent’s blue eyes. “I can’t lose you. I didn’t take a bullet for you, just to lose you now…”

“You won’t lose me,” the hard-bitten Brit said gently, his fingers ghosting lightly over his ex-wife’s bruised cheek. “You won’t get rid of me that easy.”

Skye sensed Brock’s presence well before he spoke, but he hadn’t made a sound entering the room and everyone else jumped. “Good to hear, Hunter.”

“Rums,” Hunter didn’t remove his hand from Bobbi’s face, and she rolled her head slowly to the side and kissed his fingertips. “You up for a hunt soon?”

Brock’s smile was white and vicious. “Sure. Gotta get everything squared away here and we’ll go.”

“ _Men_ ,” Skye said to Bobbi, who returned a weak smile.

“At least they’ll look out for each other. Wouldn’t want Hunter to walk into that alone, but with Rumlow to watch his back…” her voice trailed off as her eyes drifted closed.

“She’s fine,” Jemma reassured Hunter as he instantly looked panicky. “Just weak and exhausted, and on some pretty strong painkilling medication. I’m surprised she woke up at all.”

“Hmm,” Hunter was about to sink back into his chair when Brock’s strong hand closed firmly on his shoulder.

“Go shower. You stink.”

“Love you too.”

“I’m not kidding, Hunter. Plus you’ve still got Bobbi’s blood all over you. Go wash it off, it’s fucking unhygienic.” He could see the torn expression on Hunter’s face, his desperate need not to leave Bobbi’s side, the fear that if he did, she would die while he was gone. “She’s stable now, isn’t she, Simmons?”

“She is, and I promise I won’t leave her until you get back.”

Hunter huffed then nodded. “Alright, darlin’,” he said to Jemma quietly. “I won’t be gone long.” He looked back up at Skye and Rumlow. “Skye, love, you look knackered. If I have to take a break, so do you.”

Skye chuckled wryly and nodded her agreement. “Come on, then.” She tucked one hand into Hunter’s arm and one into Brock’s and tugged them out of the medical area. He wasn’t wrong and she knew it. She was holding on by sheer determination at this point. But she’d done what needed to be done and the rest of her team wouldn’t thank her for neglecting herself.

Skye and Rumlow left Hunter at the door to his quarters, making him promise to get something to eat as well even if he took it back to Bobbi’s room with him. “I promise, I promise,” he answered, laughing. “And I’m glad you’re back,” he said in a softer tone, looking from Skye to Rumlow and back again. “This place isn’t the same without you.” Skye smiled softly and nodded.

“I’m glad you’re okay. And we’ll help Bobbi get back on her feet too,” Skye promised. Hunter nodded and disappeared into his room.

With a soft sigh, Skye leaned on Brock for the short walk back to their room. Brock didn’t ask if she was alright; he knew she wasn’t. She put on a good show for her friends and teammates, but she couldn’t hide from him. Under better circumstances she couldn’t fool them for long either, but no one was at their best at the moment. Not with the various injuries and consequences of the past few weeks.

With the door closed and locked behind them, Skye took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She took the few steps over to the bed and let Brock tug her gently into his lap. As his arms closed around her, she let go of the tight control she had over her emotions.

Tears welled in her eyes as she pressed closer to him and it wasn’t long before she began to sob despondently. Brock just held her, comforting her as best he could with his presence both physically and mentally; he didn’t try to hush her, knowing how badly she needed to vent her grief. _It wasn’t supposed to be like this!_ she wailed silently, unable to get her breath enough to speak aloud.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered back as she clung to him.

 _She would’ve killed me! And our team, our friends… our family. Why? Because we wouldn’t let her wipe out normal humans? But that’s insane!_ Brock was silent, just held her a little tighter. She cried wordlessly for a while longer.

“Why?” she whispered as her crying tapered off. “Why couldn’t she try to see my side? Why… why couldn’t she love me…”

“I think she did, sweetheart. But what she went through… it messed her up so badly that she never recovered. Not really. Some people are like that, love. They seem perfectly fine until confronted with the cause of their problem, or until someone - anyone - tries to stop them.”

Skye shivered. “I couldn’t… couldn’t let her. But I couldn’t stop her. Not once she had me like that. I couldn’t think, couldn’t use my power against her even while she was killing me. And then… then…” She stopped, unable to go on as the tears began to flow again.

“Your father loves you, too, Skye,” Brock answered soothingly. “I think on some level he always knew Jiaying lost some essential part of her humanity during Whitehall’s experiments. And in the end, he chose you and your life over hers.”

“I know,” Skye whispered. “I wish he hadn’t had to. I should’ve been stronger, faster…”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Brock broke in. “You were barely born when everything began going wrong for them. If it had been anyone other than you in her way, they would’ve died a lot sooner. Like Raina did. Your mom held herself back because it was you, hoping you’d understand in the end, I’m sure. I think she started off just wanting to make the world safe for _you_ , she just - maybe she just lost sight of that.”

She shook her head. “I would never have wanted that. Never would’ve been able to forgive her, if she’d succeeded.”

“But she didn’t. And now she’s at peace, love. You have to believe that; she’s free from the pain, both physical and mental. Now she can watch over you and really understand.”

Skye blinked at him, pulling back just a bit. “You really believe that?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, I suppose I do. I’ve lost enough friends and teammates over the years. It helps to think that they’re better off in whatever afterlife they’ve found.”

With a deep, shaky breath, Skye finally managed to relax. A wave of exhaustion rolled over her, and Brock laid her gently down on the bed as he felt her go limp. He lifted her legs to unlace and remove her boots, setting them aside as she snuggled into the pillows. “Rest, now,” he soothed her gently.

“Stay with me?” she asked, cracking her eyes open to give him a pleading look.

“Always,” he promised her. She smiled just a little and her eyes drifted closed as sleep took her. “I’ll never leave you alone to deal with your pain, love,” he whispered into the quiet room. “Never.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The more observant among you may notice something that’s been updated above… the final chapter count at 67, which will be 66 chapters plus an Epilogue. Yes, after about 6 months of work, we’ve finally just about finished writing the story!**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  


	53. Matters Of Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock encourages Skye to go talk to Cal before TAHITI - and finds out that he might not be quite as alone in the world as he'd always thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_This chapter is NSFW._ **

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/201-8_zpse2cxuc34.jpg.html)

Skye woke with Brock’s head between her legs, his tongue caressing her slowly. At some point during the night he’d obviously removed her clothes to make her more comfortable - and to give himself better access. She smiled, put her hand on his head, caressed his thick black hair, relaxed into his loving touch.

Brock hummed softly against Skye, letting the vibrations travel through his lips onto her clit, felt her shiver against him, her fingers tightening in his hair. She moaned softly when he did it again, sharing through the bond what he made her feel but just allowing him to do as he wished with her. She was more than happy to let him go slow, for the moment anyway.

She moaned again as he continued to lick and suck lightly, motions teasing and slow as he built her up gently. Watching through half-closed eyes, she reveled in both the outward and inward demonstration of his love for her. Whispered his name like a caress.

Their bond was wide open, emotion and sensation freely flowing between them. He knew exactly what she needed, and she felt his desire to give her precisely that. No games this time; she didn’t even have to ask. Two thick fingers slid into her tight passage and stroked her g-spot as he sucked softly on her clit, and all of a sudden the climax that had been steadily building washed over her. She moaned his name again and he just smiled.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered, his stubble rasping lightly over her thighs as he pressed gentle kisses on her tender skin. “I’ll always be here. No matter what.”

Skye reached out to him and he moved up over her, slid into her gently, loving her as tenderly as he could, pressing his forehead to hers as he rocked his hips slowly, exulting in the pure, unfettered joy he felt from her in these moments they shared, when the rest of their problematic world fell away and it was just the two of them.

“I love you,” he said it aloud, despite knowing that she certainly didn’t need the spoken words to know it. Skye’s smile lit up his world, though. “I don’t like to think about where I’d be now if I hadn’t met you…”

“Shh,” she touched her finger to his lips. “We can’t dwell on the past, Brock. Neither one of us. We can’t change it now. Don’t think about the _what-ifs_. Just about the _what-nows_.”

He grinned at that. “ _What now_ is I make you scream my name, beautiful.”

“Excellent plan, _ohhhh_ ,” Skye gasped as he shifted, changed the rhythm of his strokes to long, deep thrusts, hooking a hand under her knee and pulling it up to his side to improve the angle so that the tip of his cock rubbed right over her g-spot with every thrust. “That’s it, just there, oh Brock OH _BROCK_!” She could feel his own end approaching, the tingle at the base of his spine that heralded his climax, along with the heat rapidly building in her own body, the fine tremors beginning to ripple through her.

“Skye,” he groaned as she clenched around him, screaming his name again. “Love you, love you _so much_.”

They lay clinging together for several long minutes afterwards, basking in the mutual afterglow, before Brock sighed and pushed himself slowly up. “Unfortunately we can’t hide away in here forever, love. Much though I’d like to.”

Skye mock-pouted for a moment at him, smiling when he laughed. “I suppose we can’t. But we might be in for some down-time while everyone heals. So at least that’s something.”

“True,” he looked down at her, nude and flushed from their lovemaking, grinned and held out his hand. “Let’s save water and time, take a shower together.”

Skye laughed, seeing his cock already beginning to thicken and lengthen again. “Glad to know that your motives are so altruistic, darling.” Accepting his hand, she let him help her up and lead her into the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They checked in at the medical centre first, finding Bobbi in a deep sleep and Hunter passed out in the chair beside her. Jemma wasn’t there, having been convinced to go to bed in the early hours of the morning, Mack told them. He was keeping an eye on things in her absence, because Lincoln had turned up and begged to use his medical expertise. Mack saw no reason why not, and the big mechanic and the young Inhuman were talking peaceably as they kept an eye on the patients.

“How’s Coulson?” Skye asked quietly, moving over to the next room and peering in the window. “ _Where_ is Coulson?”

“He woke up a couple of hours ago and flatly refused to stay in bed,” Mack replied with a sigh. “Said he felt fine.”

“Which is totally the morphine talking,” Lincoln added dryly, “but short of cuffing him to the bed we really couldn’t keep him down. And I don’t think SHIELD’s director would look on me too favourably if my first ever action as an potential associated ally was to cuff him to the bed.”

Brock grinned at that. “You might be surprised. Coulson’s surprisingly forgiving provided he understands your good intentions. All right. Where is he?”

“His office, with May,” Mack supplied. “We convinced him into a wheelchair, and May promised not to let him overtire himself.”

“Well, we’d better go see him,” Skye murmured, looking at Bobbi again. “She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?” She turned pleading eyes on Lincoln.

“Eventually,” Lincoln said with a nod. “It’ll take some time. I read her notes and I think Agent Simmons is right, she’ll need a replacement knee joint, but yes, eventually I think Agent Morse will be back as good as new, or close enough you won’t tell the difference.”

“Good,” Skye murmured, “that’s really good.” She gave Mack a smile, and he smiled broadly back, a little to Brock’s surprise, patted her on the shoulder with one massive hand. He hadn’t thought the big mechanic had ever particularly warmed to Skye, but obviously in the disaster that had been the battle on the _Iliad_ they’d found a mutual common ground.

Brock and Skye headed for Coulson’s office, knocked and were granted admission. Skye ran straight to Coulson, falling to her knees by his wheelchair and embracing him. Coulson smiled wryly and put his good arm around her comfortingly.

“I’m all right, Skye. I’m fine.”

“Lincoln was right, that _is_ the morphine talking,” Brock commented dryly to May, who nodded and smiled.

“I know, but he’s woken up with all these plans and needed to talk about them to somebody.”

“Ah?” Brock raised his eyebrows. “Are they up for sharing?”

“Certainly.” Phil patted Skye’s shoulder, gently encouraged her to get up. “Take a seat, you two. Some of this stuff is going to require your approval as well as co-operation.”

They listened intently as Phil outlined plans for Project Caterpillar, a semi-autonomous team operating within SHIELD’s purview, with SHIELD resources, but ostensibly independent.

“You’re talking about something like an Undercover Avengers,” Brock said thoughtfully after Phil had finished his surprisingly coherent summary of the plan. “I can see us coming into conflict with the _actual_ Avengers somewhere down the line, if they don’t know about us, and I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Which is why I want you and Skye to make contact with them,” Phil agreed. “Wilson and Rogers know you well, trust you. Romanoff too, as much as she trusts anyone. Go to them and tell them what’s happened, that you and Skye have developed powers, and that SHIELD are planning to work with powered people in the ranks. The Maximoffs will be well-disposed to listen as well, I believe.” He gave a slightly secretive little smile.

Skye took a deep breath as the room went quiet briefly. “What about my father?”

Phil’s arms moved slightly before he grimaced and dropped his good hand back to his lap. “Skye - you have to see that we can’t just let him walk away. And he’s too unstable to bring into the fold, either.”

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes, reached blindly for Brock’s hand. He took it and gripped it lightly, trying to soothe her with soft, loving thoughts. He could tell Coulson had a plan for this, too.

“On the other hand, without his help, you’d be dead. For that, we owe him better than a prison cell,” Phil continued. “Cal’s suffered too much. Having to kill Jiaying - I can’t imagine how terrible that must have been for him. So, if he agrees, I’m going to make him the same offer I made Ward. I’m going to offer him a fresh start with the TAHITI Protocol.”

Skye’s tears fell more freely down her cheeks. “He won’t know me,” she choked out.

“I know.” Phil fell silent, looked at May as Brock gave up on any idea of trying to appear professional and detached and gathered Skye into his lap, rocking her gently.

“Do you think he should?” she whispered against his neck finally.

“If it’s the choice of life imprisonment or the chance to start over with a clean slate, do some good in the world? What do you think, baby?” he asked her gently. “If he went to prison, yes, he’d still be your dad, but… I don’t think he’d do well there. It wouldn’t help his mental state. By all rights _I_ should be in prison because of things I did when I was with HYDRA, but Coulson offered me a fresh chance, a shot at redeeming myself, because I can be useful here with SHIELD, and he knows that I’d never betray or risk _you_. You know Cal’s not stable enough for that, so - yeah, I think this would probably be the kindest, fairest option.”

Skye was silent for a while, holding onto his shoulders, until at last she turned to look at Coulson. “I’ll talk to him. See what he says.”

“It’s his choice, Skye,” Coulson told her with a sigh. “But if you make the offer, I think he’ll take it.”

She nodded. “You could be right.”

“Would you be willing to give him some time before the procedure, if he accepts?” Brock asked suddenly.

Coulson blinked, not so quick on the uptake as usual due to the painkillers. “Why?”

Brock slanted a glance at Skye and she met his eyes as she picked up on the thought. “For me,” she said softly. “Because this will be the only chance I ever have of learning more about my family before all that knowledge is lost.”

May’s expression softened slightly and she shared a long look with Phil. “I think that can be arranged. He’ll have to stay here, of course.”

Skye nodded. “I understand. If he takes the offer, we can work something out. Thank you.”

“So, what else are you considering going forward?” Brock asked, changing the subject again.

“I wanted to talk to you both, anyway,” Skye said, looking from Coulson to May. “I was talking with Lincoln earlier, and if we really want to work with the Inhumans we’re going to need a better system than the current Index…”

May and Coulson listened intently, nodding approvingly at regular intervals without interrupting, and Skye could feel Brock’s warm approval of her ideas as well.

“We’ll need to thrash out the details,” Coulson agreed finally, “talk to Weaver, too, and re-train those who are going to be doing the Indexing. Talking of which.” He leaned back in his wheelchair, weary blue eyes flickering from Skye to Brock, “what can you two tell me about the self-cloning redheaded ninja lady currently locked up in Vault D?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They began easing Lincoln, who seemed to be getting more comfortable with SHIELD by the minute, into the idea of joining SHIELD. He’d already befriended Hunter and the Brit was telling him increasingly more outlandish stories of his exploits with the SAS by the time Brock wheeled a protesting Coulson back into the medical suite.

“You’re going back to bed, Coulson,” Skye told him sternly.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Phil attempted to fold his arms over his chest and looked almost comically disappointed to realise he only had one forearm.

“I’m not sure if it’s the drugs kicking in or that he needs more drugs,” Skye told Lincoln, failing to suppress her giggles.

“More drugs,” Lincoln said with a grin, “he’s going loopy from the pain. Come on, Director, back to bed with you.”

“You’re a nice boy,” Phil said vaguely as Lincoln and Brock helped him back into bed and Lincoln plugged the IV back into the back of his right hand. “Remind me of Audrey. Eyes like hers…”

Lincoln blinked as Coulson passed out. “Audrey?”

“His ex-girlfriend,” Brock said, grinning.

“Oh, Lord. Should I be worried?” Lincoln grinned, though, and Brock liked the kid all the more for his ability to take a joke.

“Not about that. Though we do need your help,” Skye said. “With Alisha.”

Lincoln sobered, glanced at the sleeping Phil and drew them both outside. “Where is she?”

“Secured in a cell she can’t get out of. We need to know more about her, Lincoln; I only exchanged a few words with her, and so did Brock. Did she believe - was she like you, did she not know what Mo- what Jiaying had planned?”

Lincoln frowned, leaning against the wall and closing his arms. “I can’t believe she did. Alisha has training as a nurse, we worked together a lot - we were basically Afterlife’s medical staff. She’s a healer; I can’t see her wanting to kill hundreds of people. But on the other hand - she and Jiaying were really close. Alisha didn’t talk about her family, but I had the impression that she practically grew up in Afterlife, that she looked on Jiaying as like a foster mom or something.”

That made Skye blink, glancing at Brock. _Jiaying never mentioned it,_ he caught her thought, surprised and a little worried.

“Will you come down with us to talk to her?” Brock requested. “I have orders from the Director that although the Index will be changed to limit access, she still has to be put on it. It’ll be easier with her co-operation, but…” he left the sentence hanging, and Lincoln nodded, his expression a little grim.

“I’ll come with you.”

Alisha was sitting cross-legged on the bed in the vault. She stood up and glared at them as they walked in, Brock carrying a tray with wrapped sandwiches and a water bottle. “You’re working with them, Lincoln? I expected better of you,” she snapped coldly.

“Well, I didn’t expect Jiaying to turn out to be a, a, a…” Lincoln stalled on finding the right words.

“A mass-murdering racial supremacist,” Skye supplied quietly.

“A _eugenecist_ ,” Lincoln said.

Alisha flinched, her eyes going wide. “What? That’s not…”

“What else can you call it? She intended to _murder_ everyone on board that ship who didn’t carry the Inhuman gene.” Lincoln stepped closer to the barrier, stared hard at Alisha. “Did you know? Tell me that you didn’t. You’re a _nurse_ , Alisha; _tell me_ that you weren’t party to a plan to murder hundreds of people!”

“I - I…” all the fight seemed to go out of Alisha at once. She sagged like a punctured balloon, collapsing to sit back down on the bed. “She said only a few would die,” she mumbled.

“She lied.” Brock tapped the panel to open the pass-through port, slid the tray through it. “I’m sorry, Alisha. Truly. I know what it’s like to realise that the cause you thought would lead to a better world was leading instead down a ghastly blood-soaked road to hell, believe me.”

Alisha stared at him, and then slowly, unwillingly, she nodded. “I heard that you used to be HYDRA.”

“Almost every legitimate grievance that the Inhumans had with SHIELD can truly be laid at HYDRA’s door,” Brock said gently. “I can point you to the information, if you want. It’s all out there on the ‘net in the files the Black Widow dumped, though it’s hard to sift through if you don’t know exactly what you’re looking for.”

Alisha looked at the three of them, her eyes lingering longest on Skye. At last, she got off the bed, picked up a bottle of water, uncapped it and took a drink. “So what happens now?”

“You decide if you’re an ally or an enemy,” Brock said steadily. “Either way, you will be put on SHIELD’s Asset Index - but the Index is changing. Access to it will be severely restricted, not even held on computers attached to any kind of network. At least, if you’re an ally. Enemies of SHIELD won’t get the same privacy privileges.”

“The Index,” Alisha’s mouth twisted as though she’d tasted something bad.

“I’m on it,” Lincoln said. “So are both Brock and Skye. And I’m not afraid.”

He was lying about that, Brock thought, but he was damned convincing. “We know that the Index was used by people in Afterlife as a kind of bogeyman, Alisha,” Brock said lightly. “‘Don’t get involved with SHIELD, they’ll put you on the Index.’ It’s an effective deterrent, given that none of you had any experience with us and the experience that Jiaying thought she had was actually with HYDRA. They didn’t Index her, by the way. SHIELD doesn’t have her in their records at all, and we had nothing to do with Whitehall’s disgusting experiments.”

“But…” Alisha seemed at a loss for words, though she watched Brock for any signs of deception. There were none.

“He wanted to try it on me, too, you know,” Skye said softly. “I got kidnapped and taken to HYDRA by a traitor who thought he knew what was best for me. If I hadn’t wound up in that Kree temple, I would’ve been used just like… like Jiaying.” Alisha blanched, though she remained silent as she listened to Skye. “But I wouldn’t have survived it.”

Brock wrapped a supportive arm around her and she sent him a silent reassurance that she was okay for the moment. She kept her eyes on Alisha, trying to puzzle out the other woman’s reactions towards her.

“They need our help,  Alisha,” Lincoln said, trying to provoke a reaction as moments passed in silence.

“Whatever for?” she asked, surprise evident.

“We have no intention of forcing our people to join SHIELD,” Skye answered, “but we would like to be on friendly terms. We’d like both groups to know more about each other’s capabilities, and perhaps form some working relationships.”

“So what do you need from me?”

“We took care of all the medical needs at Afterlife, including record keeping,” Lincoln explained. “They would like us to work with the medical team here to share data and assess our people as necessary.”

“We also need a blood sample from you,” Brock added while Alisha was processing that. “And trust me when I say that we’ll get it, but it doesn’t have to be the hard way.”

Alisha glared at Brock. “I’ll do it myself,” she snapped. “Just give me a syringe.” She was a little surprised when Skye pulled a box out of her pocket, containing a couple of vials and the rest of the tools she’d need - noticeably still in a bag indicating that they’d been sterilized. Alisha stepped back as the port was opened and the box slid through.

Alisha sighed and nodded, doubling herself to perform the procedure. It didn’t take long before she set the box back down on her side and pushed it through when the opening appeared again. “There, happy?” she asked sullenly.

“We appreciate your cooperation, Alisha,” Skye said gently. “We really don’t want to hurt you, you know. I want to trust you; I really do. But you must see how it looks from our perspective. If you and… and Jiaying had succeeded, all the people who I consider family would’ve been killed on that ship.”

“But you would’ve had your real family. Your parents, your people,” Alisha answered in a soft tone. “And now you can hardly even say her name.”

“You’re right, it’s hard. She tried… tried to kill _me_ on that ship. Because I was in the way, trying to stop her. My dad had to-to kill her before she could kill me,” Skye looked at Alisha through the barrier, pain and grief in her dark eyes. “My SHIELD team, my friends and family _here_ … they may have done all the wrong things after my transformation. They may have been afraid of what I’ve become. But they still tried to _help_ me when I needed it regardless of whether or not they agreed with my actions. And that’s why I couldn’t let them be killed.”

Alisha looked away, overwhelmed by the intensity in Skye’s eyes and the emotion in her voice. “I… I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all we can ask for,” Brock said quietly. “If you want to talk to someone, just look up at the camera and ask. Otherwise we’ll get back to you after this has been processed.” He took the blood samples and passed them to Lincoln before tenderly guiding Skye up out of the Vault. She was never going to have good memories of this place, even if they did get through to Alisha. It was best to get her out before her emotions got the best of her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, Brock got a call to head to Medical.

“Should I come too?” Skye asked lightly. She was much more relaxed; they’d been working on some preliminary plans for Project Caterpillar and she’d been able to set aside troubling emotions as they worked.

“You can if you like,” he answered with a shrug. “You know I don’t keep much from you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I know. But still.” She set aside her tablet and stretched her arms over her head before getting to her feet. “Come on, let’s go see what the sciencey folk want.”

When they arrived, Jemma and Lincoln looked at Brock with peculiar expressions. “Thank you for coming,” Jemma began. “We thought you should see this. As a matter of course we ran Alisha’s DNA results against our databases, looking for matches - crimes committed, that sort of thing. The database automatically throws up close relatives, too.” She handed him a tablet with a pair of gene sequences highlighted. The two had several similarities tagged.

“Okay, what am I looking at?” he asked after a moment.

“This one is your new Inhuman DNA results,” Jemma pointed to the first one. “And this one is Alisha’s.” She paused, then continued gently, “It would appear that the two of you are related, Brock.”

He blinked at her incredulously. “What?” was all he could find to say.

“Fairly closely,” Lincoln put in. “As in - it looks like you share a parent. These groups here, here, and here… you’ve got several complete chromosomes in common, too many for it to be just a grandparent you share…”

Both Lincoln and Jemma started babbling science-speak. Ordinarily Brock could have followed along quite well, but he was too stunned. Skye slipped her hand into his, squeezing lightly.

“How old is Alisha?” she asked.

“Couple of years older than me, I think - I’m twenty-six,” Lincoln said.

“My mom was long gone by the time she was born. It has to be my father,” Brock mused, felt Skye looking at him curiously. He’d still never discussed his family with her, though he’d been forced to tell Jiaying and Gordon. “That makes sense, I suppose. I was the result of a fling. My mom was a hippie; she met my father in Kathmandu. That’s the only thing I know about him.”

Lincoln’s eyes widened. “Kathmandu,” he said quietly. “Well.”

“That was Jiaying’s reaction too. What does that mean?” Brock pushed.

“I told you guys I didn’t know _exactly_ where Afterlife was, and that’s true. But I do know that it was in Nepal. And not all that far away from Kathmandu. There was a mailing address there which I know was serviced regularly.”

“That makes sense,” Brock mused quietly. “I knew Gordon couldn’t be the only way in or out of that place.”

Lincoln looked a little embarrassed. “We - transitioners, that is - had orders to tell new people that. You’re correct, though. There was a way down off the mountain and a village not that far away. The Inhumans kept a house there, and vehicles. The roads are pretty rough, but it was only a few hours’ drive to Kathmandu.”

“What are you thinking, Rumlow?” Jemma asked curiously.

“I’m thinking my father was a horndog who liked to go down to town and find a bit of light relief with pretty hippie girls in an ashram,” Brock said with a wry smile, making the other three laugh, “but - I should probably go and ask Alisha. She might actually know who he was.”

“If she doesn’t, Afterlife has complete DNA records on file for the last twenty years,” Lincoln offered. “If he was alive until ‘95 or later, we could identify him from records when we go back there.”

“Thank you,” Brock said sincerely, “but I don’t think just a name will help me much.”

Skye smiled a bit. “Well, why don’t you and Lincoln go down and talk to her? At the very least, Lincoln should be less suspect of making this stuff up to gain her cooperation. I need to go talk to Dad anyway.”

“Are you sure you don’t want company while you see him?” Brock asked solicitously.

She shrugged. “I don’t think he’s going to even try to hurt me, if that’s what you’re worried about. You know I’ll tell you about it later, anyway.” She smiled up at him. “So go. Talk to Alisha. Maybe learn something about your family while I learn about mine.”

“You should learn a lot, Skye,” Brock said, gently encouraging. “Ask him about meeting and falling in love with your mother. Remember, he knew her before Whitehall got his hands on her. Ask him what she was like then. Ask him about your grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. Don’t be afraid to ask him anything you’ve ever wanted to know about. You’ll never get another chance, baby. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life wondering.”

Skye blinked back tears and nodded. “I will. I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I really hope Skye got this chance on the show, too. That Phil thought to give her and Cal that much, at least.**
> 
> **Now, some really awesome news for fans of this story!**
> 
> **We finished writing it!**
> 
> **There are 67 chapters total, including the Epilogue, and it tops out at just over 200,000 words. And, as we promised a while back, once we finished writing it, we will up the posting rate. So as of this week, instead of posting on Monday and Thursday afternoons (US time), we will be posting 3 times a week, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons. 14 more posts and a little over a month to go.**
> 
> **And yes, it DOES have to finish some time. At over 200,000 words it’s longer than a good many novels - longer than the Da Vinci Code, for example! But I promise we’re already planning new RumSkye stories together and you won’t be deprived for long. If at all. We might have something new ready to start posting by the time this one finishes, who knows ;-)**
> 
>  


	54. Family Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye talks to Cal, and Brock breaks the news to Alisha that he's her brother.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/201-9_zpsb3wmyfem.jpg.html)

Skye knocked on the door to Cal’s room. “Come in,” she heard him call, so she swiped her key card and let herself in. “Oh, Daisy,” he said with a smile as he stood up. “Let me help you with that. Please, come sit.” He approached carefully, taking the tray she carried. He set it on the coffee table without opening it up, content to wait for her to share.

“Hi Dad,” she answered pleasantly. “Are you doing okay in here? I mean, it’s not the Hilton, but…”

“No, no. It’s fine,” he insisted as she sat down. He sat in a chair across from her and gave her a small smile. “After what I’ve done, I’d imagine I’m going away for a long time.”

“Maybe. But I’d hoped…” Skye paused and took a deep, calming breath, “before anything like that happens… would you tell me some more stories, please?”

“What kind of stories?”

“I want to know about our family. I want to hear about mom, before I was born. Your first date, your favorite song to dance to, together. I want to know if I have cousins, uncles, grandparents. Please, Dad.”

Cal’s expression softened and he gave her a gentle smile. “Oh, angel. Of course I’ll tell you. Anything you want to know.”

“Tell me about falling in love with mom, please?” she asked as she took the lid off the tray. Under the cover was a white Chinese tea pot, a couple of paper coffee cups, and a box of almond cookies with some napkins.

He blinked as she poured him a cup of tea and opened the box of cookies. “Did you do this for me?” he asked, his voice choking up a little.

“Yeah,” she admitted softly. “Tea. Little almond cookies. No flowers, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

He shook his head, smiling fondly and blinking back tears. “It’s perfect. I always imagined you perfect, you know. But you’re better than I imagined. Way more interesting than that.”

Skye chuckled a little. “I wonder where I get that from,” she commented dryly.

She sat back and sipped her tea as Cal began to tell story after story about Jiaying. How he learned that she was one of the village Elders, despite her apparent age. Hearing stories about Jiaying’s parents, though they passed away years before he’d ever met her. Learning about her gift and hearing the tales that the family passed down about the Blue Angels who changed their people, gave some of them special abilities. Dancing under the stars to whatever music his beat up old am/fm radio could catch. The very simple, rural wedding ceremony that was still somehow the most perfect day he could have imagined. The little house they had together in China, and how they spent so much time adding and decorating a new room when they learned Jiaying was pregnant.

He told her about going to medical school in the US to get away from his overbearing, wealthy parents and old family traditions. About falling out with his parents when he decided to join Doctors Without Borders and only learning about their deaths via a news article and a letter from their law firm detailing his inheritance.

“Oh, that reminds me,” he said as he paused in his story telling. “I didn’t want my parents’ money, Daisy, but when you were born I arranged for it all to be transferred to a trust in your name.” She blinked at him, shocked, started to shake her head. “No, no. Don’t argue with me. It’s yours, whatever you choose to do with it.”

“I… thank you, Dad. I don’t know that I need it; Brock made a ton of money over the years with SHIELD. But… it’s nice to know it’s there, if something ever happens,” she said after a long moment.

“Whatever you want, angel. So, where was I?”

They talked for hours. Until the tea was long gone, and Skye had the names of a few of Cal’s aunts and uncles, and some of his cousins that might still be around. It wasn’t a lot to go on, but several members of the family had been pretty prominent in various medical fields so she had a chance at least.

It was approaching dinnertime when Skye’s phone went off. She checked the alert and sighed. “I’m sorry; I have to go. I’m… needed.”

“No, it’s alright. Thank you for this. Today. It was…”

“Let me guess,” she interrupted. “Best. Day. Ever.” She laughed softly. “You have a lot of those.”

He shook his head. “No. Just one. April 9, 1988.”

Skye teared up and as they got to their feet, she moved to hug him tightly. “There’s something I need to tell you before I go,” she said as she pulled back. “We know you’ve done a lot of bad things…”

“I know. And I don’t expect the Hollywood ending. Came close, though. I found you. Paradoxical, isn’t it? My love for my family drove me mad, and now...”

Skye smiled sadly. “And now I have something for you, too,” she interrupted. “A chance at a fresh start. A chance to be better.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have a protocol, code named Tahiti. We can wipe out your memories. The years of madness and loss. Give you a new identity and a new life.”

Cal seemed to consider her words very carefully. “I don’t deserve that, Daisy. I’ve done too much.”

“But in the end, you made the _right_ choice,” she argued. “You saved a lot of people, not just me. You worked with us to right the wrongs that you’d helped enable. Director Coulson - and most of this team, really - are all about second chances. I want to give you a second chance, Dad. To do some good in this crazy, messed up world.”

“Is this really what you want?” he asked, studying her expression intently.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “I would rather have you alive and able to give something back to the world, even if you don’t remember me.”

His eyes met hers as he searched for the truth in them. At last, he nodded. “Alright, Daisy. If this is what you truly want… then I accept. Do you think… you’ll ever visit?”

She nodded. “I will. I promise. I’ll check up on you sometimes, and I hope you’ll be happier this time around.”

He shook his head and gave her a teary smile. “Right here, right now… I couldn’t be happier, angel. You’re an amazing woman, and I’m so very proud of you.”

Skye flung herself into his arms again, holding him tight as he caught her gently. “You have no idea how much I always wanted to hear you say that. Thank you, Dad. For everything.” Cal smiled gently and just held her, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. Only when her phone beeped again did he let her go.

“I love you, Daisy. Your mother and I both loved you so much. I’m sorry we weren’t able to give you the life you deserved.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she answered tremulously. “I know now that you wanted to, and that’s what counts.” She smiled at him as she headed to the door. “Goodbye, Dad.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You again,” Alisha said dryly as Brock and Lincoln re-entered the Vault. Brock couldn’t help but stare at her, trying to find something of himself in her features, but she was a fair-skinned redhead; he was swarthy-skinned and black-haired. “What?” Alisha scowled as he stared at her.

“Alisha,” Lincoln spread his hands placatingly, “we ran your DNA results, and something strange flagged up. What can you tell us about your family history?”

Alisha frowned at him too, and then shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a big secret. My father was one of the Elders of the Inhumans, it’s why I grew up at Lai Shi. My mother was an aid worker, an administrator for the Red Cross who spent a couple of years in Kathmandu. She wasn’t Inhuman so she was never allowed to come to Lai Shi, Dad lived in Kathmandu with her for a while and they had me. When she was posted back to the States, she didn’t particularly want me, or want her family to know she had a baby, so she left me with Dad. She got married and had more kids. I don’t keep in contact with her though, why? Is one of them on SHIELD’s radar or something?”

“No,” Lincoln shook his head, glanced at Brock. “It’s the other side of your family. Your father. Did I ever meet him?”

Alisha shook her head. “He died before you came to Lai Shi. Almost six years ago, now.”

_Six years_. His father had been alive until just six years ago. Brock took a deep breath, focussed on controlling his emotions, not spreading them outwards towards Skye. He could tell that she was doing the same thing as she talked to her father.

“Your DNA results flagged that you have another half-sibling,” Brock said gruffly. “Me.”

“What!” Alisha had been sitting cross-legged on the bed; she shot to her feet so fast she almost fell over.

“My mother had me following an affair with a guy in Kathmandu,” Brock said flatly. “That’s all the information I’ve ever had about him. She didn’t even put his name on my birth certificate, and she certainly never mentioned it to me. She died when I was a kid.”

Alisha was staring at him, her eyes tracing his face, looking for similarities to her own and not finding them, Brock assumed - at least until she said, “You have his eyes.”

He nodded slowly at that. “I suppose I must, though I never really thought about it. My mother had green eyes, but I do mostly resemble her otherwise. At least, I assume so.”

“You’re sure about this?” Alisha asked, slanting a glance at Lincoln. When he nodded, she sighed. “Well. That puts a rather different spin on things, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not expecting you to suddenly change your mind about me,” Brock answered with a shrug. “Or about SHIELD or the situation we’re all in. But…” he hesitated but, like he’d told Skye, if he didn’t ask for the answers he’d never get them. “I’d like to know you better. I’d like to know more about our father. Like Skye, I grew up without any family at all. If I have a chance to learn more about them now, I don’t want to let it go without at least trying.”

“Is that why she’s not here?” Alisha asked with a touch of curiosity.

“Yeah. She’s talking to Cal while she still can. Learning about the family she almost had, before everything went wrong.”

“I have to admit, I was a little jealous when I found out who she was. Jiaying was the closest thing I had to a mother after mine left,” Alisha commented conversationally. “But she chose not to mentor me; she didn’t mentor anyone. She couldn’t afford the possible bias as she was leading. But then Daisy - Skye - showed up with you and suddenly those rules didn’t matter so much anymore.”

“Don’t envy Skye, Alisha,” Brock said in a gentle voice. “She never belonged anywhere. Never… well, I should let her be the one to tell you, if she wants you to know.”

“I figured she’d jump at the chance to belong with us, to have her _real_ family, and she seemed to. But then she fought against us… I was all set to hate her for that.”

“I hope you don’t, still,” Brock answered and smiled a little when Alisha shook her head. “Good. Skye has a lot of heart. She won’t stand by and allow people to be hurt if she can do something about it. But if Jiaying gave you the support and the care you needed when you were young, then I guess I do have something else about her to be grateful for.”

“She did. But she was - she was hard. Expected a lot,” Alisha confessed. “So did Dad. His name was Adam, by the way. Adam Barron. I’m Alisha Barron.”

Brock glanced at Lincoln, who nodded. “I’ll leave you two alone to chat.” He departed quietly, and Brock sat down in the chair, leaning forward to gaze at Alisha. She reseated herself on the bed and gave him a small, but genuine, smile.

“Dad must have been pretty young when he met your mom? He was only sixty when he died…” she trailed off.

“Wow,” Brock blinked. “What happened? And - what was his Inhuman power?”

Her smile widened, and Brock realised how pretty she was. He felt suddenly fiercely protective of her - of _his little sister_. “He could talk to cats. All kinds of cats. There was a Himalayan snow leopard that became his, his familiar, I guess. As for what happened, it was a stupid accident.” She shrugged, half-angrily. “The roads in Tibet are pretty rough. He was driving the supply truck back from Kathmandu, it had rained heavily. The truck went off the edge of a cliff.”

“I’m sorry,” Brock said quietly.

“I was already grown up. Wasn’t even there, I was finishing off my nursing degree. Gordon came and got me.”

“It doesn’t hurt any less to lose someone you love when you’re fully grown,” Brock said, saw her shoulders hunch and suddenly realised that she was grieving for Jiaying, too. “If I drop this screen, are you going to make trouble?”

“Why would you do that?” she said, her voice slightly thick.

“Because I think my sister needs a hug.”

A tear dripped from her eye to her cheek, and she nodded mutely. He didn’t hesitate, dropping the screen and going to sit beside her on the bed. She leaned into him, put her head on his shoulder, and he hugged her close, not saying anything for the longest time.

“Tell me about you,” she said finally, surprising him a little. “How did you come to join SHIELD?” There was still distaste in her tone when she said the word, but far less than there had been.

“I was in the Navy, first. The SEALs.”

“Really?” Alisha smiled a little. “I never even saw the sea until I went away to college.”

Brock settled back against the wall, his arm comfortably around her shoulders. “Well, I’d been a difficult kid. Bounced around orphanages and foster homes after my mom died. But when I was sixteen, I got lucky. Got put into a foster home with a retired Navy captain and his wife. He was a tough old sea dog and he didn’t take any shit from me. Kept my nose to the grindstone for my last couple of years of school and then _told_ me I was going to sea. Much to my surprise, I thrived on it.”

“We thrive on adversity, us Barron kids,” Alisha nudged him with a grin.

“Are there any others?” Brock had to ask. “Since it seems our father had a habit of picking up girls in Kathmandu…”

She chuckled. “Not that I know about. But I suppose it’s quite possible, since I had no idea about you!”

They talked for quite a while, sharing little bits of their lives with each other, getting to know each other. Brock didn’t ask her to make any decisions. Not yet. But when his phone vibrated in his pocket and he had to go, he left Alisha with a few things to think on.

“It’ll be your choice what you want to do next, Alisha,” he told her quietly as he stood up. “If you want to just put all this behind you, go live quietly somewhere, I’ve got money; I’ll help you get set up wherever you want to live. But SHIELD could definitely use another medical professional, and someone with your fighting skills, if you’re willing. I won’t ask you to make a decision yet; the Director will want to talk with you anyway, but you should think about it.”

“I will,” she said, and then as he moved out to put the screen up, she said “Thanks, Brock.”

“You’re welcome, Alisha,” he gave her a smile, which she returned, before leaving her alone.

He met Mack outside the vault door, a cardboard box in his hands. “Hey, Mack, what’s up?” Brock glanced curiously at the box.

“I hear you’ve got a new family member,” Mack nodded at the door.

“Word travels fast,” Brock said dryly.

Mack grinned. “Don’t think there’s anyone on base who hasn’t heard. Everyone was already talking about the Ginger Ninja in awed tones. Now they know she’s a Rumlow too, they’re all terrified.”

Brock snorted with laughter. “She’s a Barron, actually. But she _is_ my sister.” He still found it incredible, but it was getting easier to accept by the moment. “What’s in the box?”

“A few books,” Mack pulled up a flap to show him. “Just paperbacks… I thought she might be bored. May said it was all right.”

Brock looked at the big mechanic curiously. Mack didn’t quite meet his eyes. Scrubbed his big hand over his bald head.

“I’ve had a sister for two hours and I’m already thinking about giving someone a shovel talk.”

The way a muscle in Mack’s cheek twitched told him everything.

“But then Alisha is perfectly capable of kicking your ass all by herselves,” Brock grinned at his own joke. “Go on then, Mack. And thanks.”

Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, he headed off to find Skye. Passing Cal’s door on the way, he paused, checked his phone, and backtracked. He could take five minutes.

Cal’s eyes were a little red, as though he’d been crying, but he smiled when Brock came in. “Hi, Brock.”

“Cal,” Brock came over for a handshake. “How are you doing?”

“Good. I’m good. Daisy and I - we’ve had a long talk.” Cal smiled genuinely. “What an amazing woman she is.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me on that score,” Brock agreed with a broad grin. “Every time I look at her I have to pinch myself to prove I’m not dreaming.”

That made Cal chuckle proudly. “She’s magnificent. I couldn’t be prouder of her. And you, you’re a fine man, Brock Rumlow. Worthy of my daughter.”

Brock ducked his head a little sheepishly. “I try to be, sir. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

“It is?” Cal cocked his head curiously.

“I thought - well - I don’t know when we’ll be able to, but…” Brock was floundering, and Cal’s expression was getting ever more quizzical. “It’s traditional to ask a father for his daughter’s hand in marriage,” he managed to blurt out at last.

When he finally understood what Brock was getting at, Cal smiled, though a little sadly. “Does she know yet?”

“We haven’t talked about it, honestly. But I thought I should talk to you first,” Brock said a little sheepishly.

“I wish I could be there to see it,” Cal said wistfully. “I can picture her now, how beautiful she’ll be.” He sighed, then looked at Brock. “Yes, you have my permission to marry my daughter. Take care of her for me, please. I know I won’t be able to, but as long as I know she has you it’ll be enough.”

“She’ll always have me, and I promise to make her as happy as I can. She’s my number one priority, always,” Brock promised. “And thank you.” He held out his hand and Cal took it briefly.

“Welcome to the family,” Cal said softly. “I’m glad she won’t be alone, when I don’t remember her anymore.”

“So she spoke to you about TAHITI, too, hmm?”

“Yes. And for her sake, I accept. She wants me to… have another chance.” Cal’s tone was a little uncertain, but his expression was determined.

“She’s like that. Forgave me for being HYDRA, before I met her,” Brock answered. “And my body count’s probably even higher than yours.”

“It’s not the same thing, though, is it? You were a soldier.”

“There’s still forgiveness to be had, Cal. And I think it’s an appropriate - penance, maybe is the right word? You’ll have a say in what you become. You’ll be able to use your skills. You just won’t _want_ to hurt anybody, won’t remember the things that made _you_ hurt so badly.”

“Then it’s probably for the best,” Cal squared his shoulders, lifted his chin. “If it’s what Daisy wants, then I’m certain that it is.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I headcanon that Gordon and Jiaying told Alisha her father died in a truck accident. But in fact, he was one of the Elders who, every few years, sacrificed his life so that Jiaying could stay young.**
> 
> **This chapter makes me swing between laughter and tears. But for both Brock and Skye, it needed to happen.**
> 
>  


	55. Let The Games Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on events away from the SHIELD team and the Playground.

_We may not like the idea of Ward with Skye, but you have to admit that the man is quite nice to look at._

* * *

 

“I’m done flying solo. I miss having a team around me. Get me more names.” Ward looked around at the men - useless, but all he had. He could work with them. He’d manage. They were tools, made to be used. One of them, the tattooed idiot - _and what kind of moron covered his body in distinctive identifying marks?_ \- at least met his eyes courageously.

“Hail HYDRA to that! What’s the plan, sir? Chaos?” Tattoos licked his lips eagerly. _Hooligan_.

“Closure,” he rapped out. “We’re going to destroy SHIELD. Once and for all.”

_I’m going to kill Rumlow. And I know how the Faustus Method works now, Kara taught me, it was so easy with Bakshi - I can finally have my Skye_ … Ward was smiling, his thoughts far away, when the door to the bar slammed and another man came in.

“You’re late,” Tattoos snapped, and was swept across the bar by a casual backhand for his insolence.

“Jack Rollins,” Ward said in amazement. “I thought you were dead.”

“Did ya?” Rollins smirked, flicked a finger at the bartender, who hastily put a glass and a bottle of bourbon down on the bar. “Turns out I’m not so easy to kill.” He looked directly, challengingly, at Ward. “I hear you’re looking to rebuild HYDRA.”

Ward glanced around, realised that the other men were listening avidly while pretending not to.

“Let’s get out of here. Go somewhere that we can talk privately.”

Rollins nodded and scooped up the bottle of bourbon. “Lead on.”

They ended up heading back - just the two of them - to the recently-vacated office building Ward had co-opted temporarily. Sat down in the battered chairs at the desk too scruffy for the previous tenant to bother carting away. Ward pulled two chipped mugs from the desk drawer and Rollins opened the bourbon, poured both mugs half-full.

“Cheers,” Ward said dryly, lifting a mug.

“Death to our enemies,” Rollins responded before taking a long swig and putting his mug down on the desk. “All right, Ward. Cards on the table time. What are you up to? You’re no true believer, never were. Why are you trying to rebuild HYDRA?”

Ward hesitated with the mug to his lips before taking a swallow and setting it down. “Were you a true believer, Jack?” He deliberately used the other man’s first name. Establishing a camaraderie between them. Rollins was older than he was, had been senior in both SHIELD and HYDRA, but Ward had no intention of letting him run the show now.

“Fuck, no,” Rollins snorted. “I just wanted to collect two paychecks. And you don’t exactly say no to HYDRA, not if you want to keep breathing.”

Ward nodded. “The whole fascist ideology always seemed a bit extremist to me,” he confided. “I mean, yeah, everyone knows you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, but twenty million people? To make the world safe for everyone? Come off it. We both know enough about human nature to know that would never have worked. Nature abhors a vacuum. Another threat would have arisen, and another - no way Zola’s algorithm could have predicted them all. And that’s _if_ Asgard or another off-world power didn’t intervene that Insight was in no way equipped to deal with.”

Rollins nodded. “I asked Pierce about the Chitauri myself, what would happen if they came back. I was there helping clean up the mess after New York.” He gave Ward a significant look.

Ward nodded. “I asked Whitehall about it, when I met him. His answer was that HYDRA would have sufficient power under control. I think we’ve both seen enough to know that’s bullshit. You can’t control that kind of power. Look at the Avengers; Fury at least got that right. He made them independent so that SHIELD couldn’t be held liable for their fucking messes.”

Rollins nodded, but he still looked a little bemused as to where Ward was heading. Ward sighed, took another sip of the bourbon.

“I don’t give a fuck about HYDRA’s former goals,” he said bluntly. “I just want to tear down SHIELD. I want to see Phil Coulson’s bloodied corpse, I want to see Brock Rumlow on his knees in chains watching as I break his precious Skye, as I tear their soulbond to pieces with the Faustus Method and as I make her _mine_. As she should always have been.”

Rollins stared at Ward as his voice lowered, as rage filled his expression, as his dark eyes glowed with fervour. And slowly, he began to smile. “ _Now_ you’re talkin’ my language. Can I kill Rumlow?”

Ward hesitated - but then, he thought, what _he_ planned would hurt Rumlow far worse than death. “Yes, but not until he’s seen what I want him to see - until he’s _suffered_.”

“Sure. Will you share the girl?”

Ward tensed and growled slightly. Rollins nodded, unsurprised. “Thought so. That’s all right, you keep her if that’s how you feel about it. But I’ll want _some_ reward.”

Ward shrugged. “Take whoever you want. There’s Simmons. She’s a scientist, no field agent, won’t give you a fight, but she’s young and pretty enough. Agent Morse, too.”

“ _She’d_ give me trouble.”

“Well, she might have done before I smashed her knee to pieces and she took a bullet to the chest,” Ward’s smirk was vicious.

“Hmm,” Rollins licked his lips. “All right. I get those two, you get Rumlow’s woman, we’ll keep him alive until you think he’s suffered enough. Everyone else?”

Ward shrugged, uncaring. “Fast or slow. Just make sure they all die.”

“So, what kind of resources are we looking at?”

Ward shrugged. “That’s the tough part. Without the main leadership, we’ll have to sort out where the resources and funding were stashed.”

Rollins grinned. “Good thing I did some talking to Pierce before Insight, then. I may not have access to the accounts, but I do know where a lot of the backup files are stored.”

“That’s useful,” Ward agreed. “What kind of files?”

“All kinds. From various points in the organization,” Rollins answered with a smirk. “Possibly even about some of the paths of research being investigated by folks like Whitehall and Von Strucker.”

“Oh?” Ward’s curiosity was piqued. “As in, we might be able to find further enhancement subjects?”

“Or possibly hardware prototypes to backup the software, if you catch my drift,” Rollins replied. “No way to know for sure until we get there, though.”

“Alright. So, where to?”

“Outskirts of D.C., of course. My codes might not be current, though.”

“I think I can handle that.” If his specialist training couldn’t get them in, Ward did still have an old flash drive with some of Skye’s work on it. Not her most current, or even her most sophisticated. But it should hopefully be sufficient to the job.

“Good. In that case, I think we have a… viable plan.”

“We don’t have a lot of manpower. But maybe our… people,” Ward grimaced, then shrugged as he nodded towards the outer office where he’d told the others to wait, “can fix that while we’re busy with information they wouldn’t understand anyway.”

“Need to know basis,” Rollins agreed with a nod, poured another shot of bourbon into his mug and held it out towards Ward. “To dead enemies.”

“Dead enemies,” Ward agreed. They both drank, warily, eyeing each other over the rims. Both too smart to think that this uneasy alliance would last forever. Both already thinking of ways to dispose of the other permanently - once their enemies were rotting in the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you have to go back?” It was a soft voice in the doorway of his room that made Trip pause in packing his bag, look around.

“SHIELD’s going through a reorganisation,” he replied after a moment. “I need to go back for briefings, find out where I’ll be assigned to next.”

Wanda bit her lip, glanced over her shoulder, and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” she looked up at Trip almost shyly, her eyes huge in her pale face. She looked a lot better after a couple of weeks of decent meals, even if she had spent almost the whole time at her brother’s bedside as he recovered. The gauntness in her face had filled out, the shadows under her eyes had faded.

_She knows how I feel. She must._

“I have to go,” Trip said quietly. “But - I’m gonna ask if I can come back. Be the official SHIELD liaison to the Avengers. There’s - stuff happening that I’m not allowed to talk about…”

“Coulson?”

“Please don’t say that name where anyone else can hear it!” he begged fervently.

Wanda smiled. “I won’t, I promise.” She stepped closer, tilting her chin to look up at him. “If you can’t persuade Coulson to let you come back, call me,” her smile turned mischievous. “I could _intercede_ on your behalf.” Lifting a slim hand, she tapped him lightly on the chest with a black-painted nail. “I do _not_ intend to let you go that easily, Antoine Triplett.”

_Fuck it, she knows exactly what I’m thinking_ … he grabbed her hand, turned it over and kissed her palm. Wanda’s smile widened, and a moment later he’d given up entirely, picked her off her feet and kissed her thoroughly, her feet dangling in mid-air as she kissed him back eagerly.

Her arms wound around his neck, and when he would’ve pulled back she kissed him again. Not until they both had to come up for air did he set her back on her feet, and she beamed at him. “Come back to me soon,” she whispered. “And if you need me, promise to call?”

“I get the feeling I might not have to,” he joked lightly back, and she winked rather than trying to deny it. “But I promise.”

“Good.” Reluctantly she released him and stepped back, giving him space to finish packing. “May I stay here until you leave?”

“Of course,” he agreed immediately. “Not that watching me pack is terribly entertaining.”

“I do not wish to miss your company while you are still here,” she answered with a shrug. “And Pietro is sleeping. He will not notice my absence for a short time.”

“Is he - gonna have any issues with you and me? I know how close the two of you are,” Trip looked at her earnestly.

Wanda smirked. “Considering how much he has heard me talk of you in the last few days, I think he is already thoroughly sick of the sound of your name.”

“Ah, shit,” Trip said, but he could hear the laughter in her tone, grinned himself.

“He owes you his life, Trip. If he must give you his sister, then that is a price he will pay. Do not worry. You will like each other very much, I think.” Her smile was a little shy. “I love you both, so how could you not?”

That deserved another thorough kissing, one which ended with Trip shoving his bag off the bed and pulling her down to it, sitting on his lap, before his phone beeped in his pocket and he snarled grumpily.

Wanda giggled, getting off his lap and smoothing her hair. “Just a little incentive for you to hurry back to me.”

“As if I needed any,” he grumbled in annoyance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Speedster,” the deep voice made Pietro look up. He smiled as he recognised the man they called the Falcon. Wanda always blushed a little at him; Pietro had teased her a little about it until she admitted that it was only that Sam reminded her of Trip. He sighed a little, inwardly, at the thought. He was losing his baby sister. Well, there could be no better man, and he owed Trip too much to stand in the way. If he could stand for more than a few moments, that is! He grimaced at his own weakness.

“Not speedy at the moment, I’m afraid.” He plucked at the blanket over his legs.

Sam smiled sympathetically, seating himself by the bed. “Yeah. Dr Cho says the Cradle will be repaired in a couple more days so you can be fixed up properly. Apparently the original of the drug you were given would have done more, but… the lab techs here say the formula they use now isn’t as powerful as the original one, but it doesn’t have the side effects.”

“Which is good, I have no desire to go mad and begin drawing on the walls,” Pietro agreed. “I did think I was hallucinating when I saw myself in the mirror anyway!”

“Why?” Sam blinked, puzzled.

“In the bathroom,” Pietro elaborated. He reached down to the hem of the T-shirt he was wearing, pulled it up to reveal a name on his stomach. “Apparently I developed a soulmate when I was ‘reborn’.”

“What?” Sam blinked. Leaned in to look. “That’s - that can happen?”

Pietro shrugged. “I have never heard of it - but then soulmates are rare enough, how many people come back from the dead to be asked about it? Eh?” He laughed at his own joke, sobered when Sam didn’t smile, just stared at him wide-eyed. “Sam?”

“I never thought of that!”

“What?”

“I - developed a soulmark too. Bit more than a year ago. Couple of days after SHIELD fell, when HYDRA came out of the shadows. I thought - I _assumed_ that my soulmate had just been born. But it could be that they died, had a near-death experience and were brought back, after all there were so many that died or were injured…”

“You’re babbling,” Pietro said succinctly. “What is her name?”

“His,” Sam corrected. “His name’s Leopold.”

“That cannot be a common name, surely.” Pietro gestured. “Get out your phone, Sam. Find someone called Leopold who died last year - or didn’t, as it would seem.”

“But - what if he’s with HYDRA?”

Pietro raised an eyebrow. “Well, Wanda and I are living proof that some of those fighting for HYDRA are there for the wrong reasons. Perhaps you have been given your soulmate because it is your destiny to help him see the light.”

“You’re sounding like your sister,” Sam found a grin for him. “We’ll start calling you Spooky and Spookier instead of Spooky and Speedy if you’re not careful.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t like Midgard!”

“You’ll like what happens here a lot less if Thor realises you’re out of prison!” Loki sighed, restrained the urge to roll his eyes, and gave Lorelei a placating smile. The beauty stood, arms folded across her impressive bosom, tapping a dainty foot on the marble floor of his bedroom. She was a magnificent sight, quite unconcerned about her nudity, and for a moment he reconsidered his plan, thought about taking her back to his bed and just keeping her there. Thor was hardly likely to barge into Odin’s bedroom…

Regretfully he dismissed the idea. Lorelei would never tolerate that. She enjoyed walking Asgard’s court, wearing one of his illusions so that none knew she crept among them, weaving her webs of seduction and intrigue.

“Midgard will be safe for you while Thor is here. He is too strong; has learned too much. I cannot risk you, my darling.”

The petulant droop of her mouth softened as he spoke. “Well, he’s not here yet, is he, Loki?” She unfolded her arms, stepped back closer to the bed.

“No. He’s still busy down on Midgard with his _friends_.” Loki’s mouth twisted on the word. Reaching out, he took Lorelei’s hand, tugged gently to draw her back to his side. “Once he returns, though, I will need all my magic to concentrate on my own illusions. I can’t protect you, not until Thor’s out of the way permanently.”

She smiled at that suggestion. “I await that day eagerly, though I still wish you were not so insistent upon killing him. He had his uses.” Her full lips made a little moue of disappointment as she looked down at Loki’s body, and Loki had to fight back a snarl of rage.

_Must I ever be compared to my brother, even in this??? You just sealed your own fate, sorceress. I’ll not defile my mother’s crown by setting it on your head. I’ll send you through to Midgard - but the way back will be closed. Live or die there as you please, I care not._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even Loki isn’t willing to put up with Lorelei’s shit. But, oh dear, there’s trouble a-brewing, isn’t there? Enemies are forging alliances, and one of the most dangerous is on her way back to Earth… the pieces for the endgame are beginning to fall into place on the board...


	56. About Damn Time Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Trip’s presence changes things yet again..._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%2022_zpsa707fmjd.jpg.html)

“No, we’re never opening that damn box in a thousand years!” Mack said in horror when Jemma suggested dropping a probe in with the strange black stone Lincoln had told them the Inhumans called the Monolith.

Jemma looked mutinous.

“She’s thinkin’ about it, Mack, I’d fix those latches shut if I was you,” Trip said laughingly from the doorway.

“Trip!” Jemma forgot about the Monolith at once, hurried across the room to hug him. He hugged her back, dished out hugs to Fitz as well, shared a fist-bump and a shoulder-hug with Mack.

“You’re right about the latches, actually,” Mack said thoughtfully, bumping his fist on the top of one. It popped and the case door swung slightly open. “Good God, what moron designed that?” Hastily he snapped it back shut. “No way! Fitz, grab that wrench - we’re tightening this up for now, and tomorrow morning we’ll figure out a way to seal it shut _permanently_.”

Jemma sighed for the loss of the scientific opportunity to study the alien artifact - but then Lincoln said even the Inhumans thought it was dangerous. Forgetting all about the Monolith as Fitz and Mack set to making sure the latches couldn’t be opened short of a laser cutting torch, she turned back to Trip.

“Tell me all about Sokovia! You fought with the Avengers, we were all so excited for you…”

“Didn’t do any fighting, just piloted one of the evacuation craft,” Trip admitted. “But yeah, I’ve met all the Avengers. Even the new ones.” His smile was broader than ever.

“Have you seen Skye and Brock yet? They’ll be so happy to know you’re back. We were all planning to go out somewhere nice for dinner tonight, Bobbi’s out of bed and in a wheelchair and even Coulson’s agreed to come as long as we don’t make him have something we’ll have to cut up for him,” Jemma chattered, tugging him towards the door. She glanced over her shoulder. “We’re supposed to be leaving in half an hour, you two, chop chop!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mack and Fitz said in unison, grinned at each other and went back to work.

“C’mon, girl, let’s go find the rest of the crew,” Trip said with a chuckle, one arm draped over Jemma’s shoulders as she led him away. “We’re gonna need at least two cars.”

“We can get Rumlow to drive one. He can’t get drunk,” Jemma mused.

Andrew Garner volunteered to drive the other. He was coming back to work for SHIELD again, and there was definitely something going on with him and May. May was even taking some of her mountain of accrued holiday leave and they were leaving on a trip the following morning, before Andrew began work again. May refused to say where they were going, too, though it was obvious that Coulson knew.

The restaurant was a local steakhouse, nothing fancy in the decor, but the food was excellent and the drinks free-flowing. Trip watched as Brock and Skye sat comfortably together, she snuggled in under his arm, both of them rarely more than a finger’s breadth away from contact with each other all night.

It was just the SHIELD crew. Lincoln had quietly bowed out, saying he’d keep Alisha company for the evening. Trip had heard by now that Alisha was Brock’s half-sister, and teased him mercilessly about it.

Brock grinned, half-proud, half-deprecating. “It’s just a worry that she’s so gorgeous. I have a sister for a few days and suddenly I’m having to beat guys off with a stick.” He glanced down the table at Mack, who studiously didn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t you dare make a pass at her as well, Trip, that famous charm of yours might start a war.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me, I’m taken,” Trip blurted, kicked himself as everyone looked at him with interest.

“Oh yes, who’s that? Do tell!” Jemma poked at his arm.

“They’re such a bunch of gossips,” Hunter said laughingly.

“You and Bob provide so much fuel for it,” Mack cracked back at once, making Hunter flush slightly and Bobbi chuckle from her wheelchair at the end of the table.

“Shush, Trip’s telling us about his new girlfriend!” Jemma admonished.

“I am? Um. Yes… well…” Trip ducked his head, unable to keep the broad grin off his face. “I might be slightly involved with Wanda Maximoff.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed that, and then, somewhat to Trip’s surprise, Coulson was the one who gasped “You’re dating an _Avenger_?”

“You’re such a fanboy,” Brock sniped at Coulson, which made everyone burst out laughing again, fortunately diverting attention from Trip’s embarrassment.

They hadn’t done this in too long, Skye thought, looking around the table, at all her friends together, all smiling and laughing and having a good time. Even May was smiling, her shoulder lightly touching Andrew’s as they talked. And Bobbi, wounded but game, on the mend, Hunter and Mack on either side of her fussing over her. Coulson eating pasta one-handed, Fitz chattering confidently away to a smiling Jemma as Trip listened and regularly let out his infectious laugh.

Brock felt her joy, her contentment, and knew that now was the time. Cal had left for TAHITI two days earlier, and while Skye was sad about that, Coulson had promised to make it possible for her to keep tabs on him, perhaps even to visit sometimes.

Brock’s chair scraped loudly as he pushed it back to stand up, and everyone glanced around.

“If I could have your attention for a moment?” he said, a little unnecessarily, but everyone immediately quieted.

Coulson, guessing what was coming, set down his fork and picked up his wine glass in readiness. Brock grinned at him. He’d asked Coulson too, after Cal. Both of the men who were father figures in Skye’s life. Coulson had only muttered _about damn time too_ before shaking his hand rather hard.

Brock looked down at Skye, staring up at him, puzzlement in her eyes. Smiled lovingly at her before looking around the table at his friends.

“I’ve made some pretty damn big mistakes in my life,” he began, “as you know. I’ve never tried to hide them from you, and I think you all know that I intend to spend the rest of my life making up for my past as best I can.”

They were all quiet, looking at him.

“Despite everything, you’ve welcomed me with open arms. Never doubted my loyalty, defended me to those who did,” he nodded to Hunter in particular there. Weaver had told him about Hunter’s fierce defence of him to Gonzales.

“We never doubted you because we never doubted Skye,” Fitz said loudly.

Brock smiled. “I know. You took her into all your hearts first, and then accepted me because of her. You’re the family of our hearts.” His hand squeezed Skye’s shoulder gently. “And because of that, _because_ this _is_ our family - I want you all to stand witness to this.”

His free hand delved into his jacket pocket as he kicked his chair back to give himself enough room. Went to one knee and smiled up at Skye.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Jemma squealed before slapping a hand over her mouth, though she still made excited squeaking noises through it.

Even Jemma’s noises couldn’t distract Skye; she kept her eyes on Brock’s and smiled back at him as he knelt before her. Before he even began to speak, her eyes filled with happy tears as her mind put the pieces together, but she kept silent and let him do his thing.

“Skye, you are my love, my heart, and the mate of my soul,” he began, his voice low but pitched to carry for the others to hear. As he spoke, he pulled a small, square box out of his pocket and held it up to Skye. “Would you be my wife as well?” He opened the box to display a ring.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/round-alexandrite-palladium-ring-with-london-blue-topaz_zps43ioxkmx.jpg.html)

Brock felt her response before she could bring herself to speak. The wash of love and happiness and hope was enough to keep him from worrying as she stared at him silently for a long moment. The table was silent, everyone else seeming to hold their breath even as Skye did. Then Skye shook herself and found her voice. “Yes, I will. I love you so much, Brock.” She beamed at him and he grinned back as he took the ring from the box; she held her hand out to him and without being asked, he slid the ring onto her finger for her.

The whole group erupted in loud cheers and applause as Brock lifted Skye’s hand to his mouth, kissing the ring on her finger.

“Oh, get up, you big fool,” Skye said, grinning widely despite the joyous tears overflowing her eyes, utterly touched by the big romantic gesture Brock had just made. He was an intensely private man; to do something like this in front of so many couldn’t have been easy. But it was the kind of proposal her girlish dreams had been made of, surrounded by friends even closer than family.

Brock rose, pulling Skye to her feet and into his arms for a long, thorough kiss, careless of the whoops and hollers from the rest of the group. She was flushed and laughing when he finally let her up for air, and he grinned down at her and sat down, tugging her to sit in his lap.

“I asked your dad,” he whispered into her ear. “Both of them, actually.”

Skye hugged him tighter, looking across the table at Coulson, who was getting up, wine glass in hand. May rattled a fork against her glass, silencing everyone.

“Ahem,” Coulson uncharacteristically cleared his throat before beginning, and Skye realised he was a little overwhelmed with emotion himself. The happy tears began to stream faster down her cheeks until Andrew silently handed her a handkerchief. She smiled a quick thank-you at him and returned her attention to Phil as he started to speak.

“I’m sure we all saw this day coming,” he began, his usually soft voice intense with emotion. “Never in my life have I seen a pair of soulmates as close as Skye and Brock. Nor have I ever known anyone who so completely changed their life because of what their soulmate inspired them to be.” His eyes met Brock’s for a moment and he nodded as Brock smiled. “You’ve been through some tough times and some tougher revelations. We’ve all had cause to wonder and to doubt, but through it all you held onto each other. I can’t say ‘welcome to the family’ because you’ve both been part of it for a long time. So what’s left is to wish you every happiness possible. To Skye and Brock; may your bond always keep you as close as you are today.”

He lifted his wine glass, and there was a chorus around the table as everyone followed suit. “To Skye and Brock!”

“When will you get married?” Jemma was the one to eagerly ask the question, as they happily accepted everyone’s individual congratulations.

“I don’t know,” Skye said, “but I’m not in any hurry. I know Brock’s not going anywhere.”

“Certainly not,” Brock hugged her tighter. “When everything’s a bit more settled, perhaps?” he told Jemma. “Skye needs to decide what she wants first. If it’s going to be the white wedding and the whole nine yards, if I’m going to sweep her off to Fiji or something, or if we all go to Vegas for the weekend - or anything in between.”

Skye laughed. “I don’t know. I _do_ know that I want you all there,” she smiled at Jemma, who hugged both of them at once, squeaking with excitement.

It was very late when they all arrived back at the Playground, smiling and talking, all of them more relaxed than they’d felt in a long time. Bobbi was half-asleep, head nodding against Hunter’s shoulder as he and Mack eased her out of the car and into her wheelchair to take her inside.

Skye leaned against Brock happily as they walked towards the entry to the accommodation wing, but he paused before they got there.

“Would you mind if we stopped in to see Alisha?” he asked. “I’d like to tell her.”

“Sure!” Skye agreed happily. “She’s your sister, she should hear it from you. We can tell Lincoln, too.”

Alisha had been allowed, just the previous day, to remove from Vault D to the secure suite Cal had previously occupied. She and Lincoln were playing a quiet game of cards when Brock and Skye let themselves in.

“Hi, you’re back!” Alisha said with a pleased smile. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, dinner was great. And we have some news!” Skye answered with a smile as she realized that Alisha was much more accepting of her since things had begun to settle.

“News?” Lincoln asked curiously. “I didn’t think it was a business dinner.”

Brock followed Skye into the room, catching her left hand in his right. “No, it was just a team bonding dinner. But, well, I took advantage of having most of the people we consider family in one place. And then we came straight here to tell you two.” Rather than saying it outright, he held out Skye’s hand towards the two Inhumans, angled so the light sparked off her ring.

“Oh, wow. You’re getting married?” Alisha asked with a grin. “May I?” She held out her hand, wanting a closer look.

“Yep, we are!” Skye agreed, bouncing on her toes. She nodded her permission and let Alisha take her hand from Brock, angling the ring to see it in better light. “No actual plans yet, though; we want things to be a little more settled before we try to sort out details.”

“That’s good. Where will you live?”

“That’s one of those things we’ll have to work out,” Brock grinned after a moment of stunned silence, making Lincoln and Alisha both start laughing. “An off-base apartment would definitely be nice. We really can’t live and breathe SHIELD all the time, no matter how much we’ve been doing it this last year or so. Even I used to have an apartment in DC when I was STRIKE commander.”

“Well my home before SHIELD was my van, so an apartment sounds really nice, actually!” Skye giggled.

Alisha blinked at that, startled. “You lived - in a van?”

_Tell her_ , Brock whispered quietly into Skye’s mind. _She’s a little jealous of the attention Jiaying paid you, I think._

“Yeah,” Skye replied, listening to Brock’s advice. “I grew up in the foster system, spending more time at the orphanage than I ever did at any of the foster homes. I managed to work enough part-time in high school to save up for a cheap, crappy van when I turned eighteen. Lived there on and off afterwards. I had a couple of boyfriends that I crashed with sometimes in my early twenties, but went back to the van when it didn’t last. I was living and working in my van when SHIELD picked me up a couple of years ago.”

“Oh,” Alisha said, her tone clearly one of surprise. “I thought - well, I assumed that SHIELD had raised you.”

“Their idea of keeping me safe was to make sure I never stayed at any one foster home long enough to get settled and possibly be tracked down,” Skye said wryly. “Only no one ever told me that. It didn’t make for the most stable of childhoods.”

“I see,” Alisha said quietly, looking at Brock. “And you - you said your mother died?”

“Yes, and my grandparents weren’t interested. I went into foster care too - but I was a troublesome little shit, so I didn’t stay long anywhere either,” he answered her steadily. “Just one more thing that Skye and I have in common.”

_At least we’ve given her food for thought,_ he shared with Skye, looking at Alisha’s considering expression, and felt Skye’s concurrence as she squeezed his hand lightly.

Lincoln and Alisha congratulated them both again sincerely before returning to their card game, bickering amiably over whose turn it was to make a play. Skye and Brock left them alone, heading back to their own quarters.

“Looking forward to having my way with my fiancée,” Brock growled in Skye’s ear, his hand warm on her bottom. She shivered with delighted anticipation and walked faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Smuthanger - because there’s some major action coming, and this will be the last smut for a while. Just a little something to tide you over!**


	57. You'll Never Be Bored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alisha makes her choice, and Rumlow decides to go back up Hunter in the search for Ward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_This chapter is NSFW._ **

[ ](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%2021_zps6pwjjjmh.jpg.html)

“I do like the sound of that,” Skye said over her shoulder to Brock as she opened the door to their room.

“What, me having my way with you?” He kicked the door shut behind them, shrugged his jacket off and draped it over a chair.

“No. Fiancée.” She grinned at him. “You already knew I like the other part.”

“I’m glad.” Brock took the few steps needed to reach Skye and pulled her into his arms for a long, deep kiss. She whimpered softly into his mouth even as she melted against him, willingly surrendering herself to him. Her tongue tangled with his as he slowly guided her closer to the bed.

“Tell me what you want,” Skye whispered, her fingers busy unfastening the buttons of his shirt.

Brock made a hungry rumbling sound in his chest before his hands caught her waist, lifting her easily. She wrapped her legs around him and ground her hips deliberately against his arousal, grinning cheekily as he growled.

“I think I shall need to teach my _future wife_ a little respect for her husband,” he said hoarsely.

“Teach me a lesson?” Skye cast her long eyelashes down, peeked up through them demurely. “Am I a naughty girl, sir?”

She could feel his arousal peaking with every teasing word, every flutter of her lashes. Heat coiled in the pit of her stomach as his own eyes hooded and he licked his lips.

“I think you like being a naughty girl,” he rumbled, voice low and eyes dark. “But you know what happens to naughty girls, don’t you?”

Skye shivered in delight as she nodded, still peeking up at him through her lashes. “Yes, sir. But I only like being naughty for _you_.” Her lips found his throat, just below his ear, and she nipped softly at the sensitive skin.

Brock growled at her again, even as his palm smacked her ass. She jumped slightly, but he held her firmly against him and she wasn’t worried about falling. She knew he’d never let her fall.

“You’d better not let me catch you ever misbehaving for anyone else,” he growled menacingly. There was an undercurrent of reassurance in his mind, though, that he _knew_ she’d never even look at another man. His words, his tone, were just part of the game she’d begun, and she smiled and let herself relax into the scene, trusting in him completely.

“Yeah? What’d you do if I did?” she said tauntingly.

“Oh, is that how it is, hmm?” he moved easily, lowering her to the bed, his mind bright with anticipation. “I’d remind you who you belong to, missy.” He removed her clothes with deft, expert movements, pressing slow heated kisses to each inch of skin as he revealed it. “Because you’re _mine_ ,” Brock hissed it as he kissed up Skye’s inner thighs.

She shuddered with pleasure as he nipped sharply at tender skin. “Yes,” she agreed breathily, before remembering that they were supposed to be playing a game. “Um… you think so?”

He laughed, pleased that he’d scrambled her brains so utterly already. “Oh, I _know_ so, sweetheart.” He hadn’t removed her panties yet, ripped them away with a sharp yank, the delicate fabric shredding in his strong fingers. Skye squealed in protest.

“Brock, I liked those!”

“Well, I liked ripping them off you. Buy yourself some new ones. Twenty pairs.” He moved up over her, smirking down at her, enjoying the way she arched up to press her breasts against his chest. “As many as you want.”

Skye shivered as her peaked nipples chafed on the fabric of his shirt. “You’ll regret that offer,” she murmured breathily. “I’ll go to Victoria’s Secret with your credit card.”

“Baby,” Brock grinned, “you wanna go shopping there, you can max my card out any time you like.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Skye answered cheekily. Then she moaned as Brock’s lips dipped down to trail kisses along her collarbone. “If you’re going to be a possessive asshole, I ought to get to have some fun somewhere.”

“Oh, trust me,” Brock rumbled, his lips hovering over her breast, “you’ll definitely have fun being mine.” He nipped at her flesh teasingly, and grinned when she moaned softly again. “I’ll make sure of it.” Slowly, remorselessly, he set about marking her as his, sucking bruises into her neck, her breasts, while his fingers teased around her centre, never quite putting the pressure where she wanted it.

Skye writhed and moaned beneath Brock, quickly reduced to begging, her fingers tugging at his shirt. He resisted, though, and she couldn’t fight his strength, snarled at him in mounting frustration.

The bed tremored, and Brock startled, eyes widening with surprise. “Baby!”

Bashfully, she hid her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry! I just, you’re going too slowly, I _need…_ ”

“Hush,” he kissed her, lifted his head and gave her a penitent smile. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He could feel her frustration, her need, through the bond, now that he focussed. “Okay. I got you. You tell me what _you_ need.”

“Touch,” she tugged at his shirt, and he leaned back and pulled it off at once, letting her run her hands across his muscled chest and shoulders.

“Ahh,” Skye sighed, happier now that she had more skin contact with him. Her fingers slid over his skin and her breasts brushed against his chest as he captured her mouth again. _In me,_ she insisted silently now that he was listening. _Don’t want to wait anymore. Please._

With a low growl he pulled away just long enough to strip off the remainder of his clothes. Then he gathered her close again, bodies pressed together as she twisted her hips in attempt to get him where she wanted him. “I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured again, soothing her with a gentle kiss. He shifted slightly, aligning their hips better, and in one fluid move he slid inside her.

Skye arched her back, moaning loudly as he filled her body. “So good. Always feel so good with you,” she murmured, her fingers tangling into his hair to hold him close.

“Perfect,” he told her in reply, holding still for a moment before his hips began to rock slowly, only pulling out a little way before pressing deep again. Skye’s slender legs wrapped around his hips, her heels dug into his ass to urge him on, and he smiled and kissed her, enjoying the slow burn of pleasure building between them.

Though she moaned and writhed and urged him faster, Skye was actually content to let him enjoy a slow build up now that he was inside her, skin to skin. She kissed him back, deep, tender kisses. She caught sight of her ring once or twice, glinting softly amid the dark strands of his hair.

Little by little, their pace increased. Brock moved in long, steady strokes and Skye whimpered as he pushed her pleasure higher. Their bond was wide open at that moment, each experiencing the other’s emotions as well as physical sensations. This sort of sharing never let either of them last long, but they were both content to draw it out as long as possible.

Skye’s climax overtook them suddenly, creeping over her until she was suddenly _there_. She shuddered, body trembling as her inner muscles clamped down around him. Brock rumbled a low moan as her peak pushed him over the edge as well.

For long minutes they stayed locked together, trading kisses and murmured endearments that didn’t need to be spoken aloud but they said them anyway, enjoying the husky, fulfilled sounds of each other’s voices as much as the words. Finally, Brock sensed a little strain in Skye’s mind and eased back. She made a little grumpy sound and tried to hold on.

“I know, but I’m heavy, love,” he kissed her again.

“I like your weight on me, it’s comforting!” she insisted, making him smile.

“You gotta breathe, baby. These muscles, they’re denser than normal. Makes me very heavy.”

“They’re _good_ muscles,” Skye gave his shoulder a teasing squeeze.

“Yeah? Good for all sorts of things,” Brock grinned, and with a sudden twist of his body he flipped them over so Skye was on top, his hips lifting and jerking against her.

“Ohhh!” Skye gasped as she realised he was hard again, his hands sliding under her butt and squeezing, holding her steady as he thrust, setting a fast pace. Already sensitive from the earlier orgasm, she quickly built towards another peak, shuddering and moaning, her breasts bouncing as Brock pumped hard.

“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s it, go on, you’re so fucking beautiful when you come on me…” not pausing in his thrusts, he jerked himself up to a half-sitting position, stomach muscles not even straining, and caught one of Skye’s nipples in his mouth, suckling hard.

Skye wailed at the added sensation, her body awash with pleasure, both her own and his. “ _Brock_!” She could feel her body approaching the edge, little shocks of pleasure zinging along her nerves.

His mouth was full, but he could still speak to her with his mind, hard though it was to focus. _That’s it, baby, give it to me… let me feel you… so good, so perfect… love you so much..._

“Love you,” Skye cried out as her body began to clench around him, “ _hnnnn_!”

Brock fought to keep his eyes open through the climax, to watch Skye, but it felt so good his vision blurred and he had to close them, fearful that he might accidentally unleash his power, though that hadn’t happened since Lincoln’s treatments at Afterlife stabilised them both.

Skye collapsed on his broad chest, breathing fast and sweating, shivering with little aftershocks of pleasure running through her body. Brock’s arms folded around her, so strong and safe, she knew that she would never want to be anywhere else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They woke the following morning to a quiet knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Brock called, disentangling himself from Skye.

“Lincoln,” came the apologetic reply from outside the door. “Sorry to bother you, but… Alisha’s asking to see you, Rumlow.”

Skye and Brock glanced at each other before she shrugged, sending him a warm feeling of reassurance. “Go,” was all she said aloud, and he only paused to kiss her before grabbing up clean clothes and yanking them on quickly.

“Please don’t tell me you and Alisha are sleeping together,” was the first thing Brock said to Lincoln.

“What? No!” Lincoln gaped as they fell into step with each other along the corridor. “But - we were up all night talking. About what we do now. We felt… well, I’ll let Alisha tell you.”

“Okay?” Brock looked at the younger man quizzically, but they were at the door already and he just shrugged and opened it.

Alisha looked up as he entered, smiled at him tentatively. “Thank you for coming,” she said almost shyly.

Brock shoved his hands in his pockets, a bit unsure what to do with them. “Well, when my only living family calls, I guess I come running,” he said dryly, making her smile widen.

“That’s - that’s nice to know.” She shared an expressive glance with Lincoln. “Please, won’t you sit down?”

He conceded to make her feel more comfortable. She and Lincoln both took seats, and Alisha took a deep breath and jumped straight in.

“We - that is, Lincoln and I - we feel that there are two options open to us. We can go out into the world and try and make a normal life for ourselves, try to blend in and pretend we’re not Inhuman.”

“You could try that, yes,” Brock agreed. “I think you know SHIELD would keep tabs on you anyway if that’s your choice.”

“Yes. Of course. Or… we could accept your and Daisy’s offer.”

He almost opened his mouth to correct her to _Skye_ , and then thought better of it. Skye hadn’t minded her parents using the name. Or Lincoln. His hand lowered instinctively to his stomach, to where the word looped across his abs.

Alisha was still speaking, unmindful of Brock’s thoughts. “We could work with, and for, SHIELD. Neither of us want to be offensive combatants, except in case of emergencies. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be useful. Lincoln’s literally two examinations shy of his MD, and I’m a qualified nurse with emergency room experience - and midwifery, though I’m not sure that will come in handy here unless you and Daisy are planning to start a family sooner rather than later.” She cocked an eyebrow at him and he shook his head with a short laugh.

“We both have, or _had_ , good reason to mistrust SHIELD,” Lincoln put in. “But that was the _old_ SHIELD. And this new version, with actual Inhumans already working within it, accepted and trusted and treated as family… that, that’s maybe a SHIELD that we can work with.”

Brock considered them both for a moment. “You’re asking my advice. Don’t you think I’ll be a touch biased?”

“Yes,” Lincoln agreed. “But I also think you’ll be ruthlessly honest. You were with Daisy when she was wrong about Jiaying, after all. And she’s your soulmate; it must have torn you apart to do that, and still you did it, for her own good.”

“Good point,” Brock acknowledged, and then he reached out and took Alisha’s hand, to her obvious surprise. “You’re my sister,” he said to her directly. “The only blood relative I’ve got in this world, and I’m damned if I’ll let you go out alone into a world where HYDRA are still hunting for and experimenting on powered people. I’d hate to lose you so soon after I found you. Stay, Alisha. Stay and change SHIELD from the inside, help us make it into something that we can _both_ be proud to be part of. We’re building something new, rebuilding SHIELD from the ground up, with powered people a part of it this time, on the inside with a real chance to make a difference.”

Looking over at Lincoln, he added, “You’re not related to me, but for what it’s worth, you earned my respect out there on the carrier when you made a difficult choice and saved a lot of lives. SHIELD is willing to give you a chance, to give you _both_ a chance. Coulson’s big on second chances. He gave me one, and I grabbed it with both hands. You grab yours and you can have a life you’ll be proud of, one where you don’t have to hide what you are, pretend to be _less_ than you are. We’ll get you through the rest of your degree, Lincoln. You’ll both be fulfilled and happy with SHIELD, I hope.” Brock smiled at them both. “At the very least, I can absolutely guarantee you’ll never be bored.”

They were both smiling back at him. Alisha squeezed his hand. “I accept,” she said, with no doubt in her voice at all, and Lincoln nodded, getting up and offering his hand as well.

“So do I.”

“Excellent.” Brock smiled, shook Lincoln’s hand, and surprised Alisha again by giving her a hug. She froze for an instant and then returned the hug, holding onto him quite tightly.

A tap on the door made them look around, and then Skye came into the room, smiling. “Well, I believe congratulations are in order, then. Welcome to SHIELD!”

Alisha laughed and hugged Skye too. “I don’t think it’s official yet!”

“It will be,” Skye said confidently, glanced at Brock. “I’m afraid you’re in demand this morning, darling. Hunter’s looking for you. He got a call from one of his merc contacts late last night. They might have a lead on Ward. Bobbi made him promise not to leave without you.”

“Then I’d better gear up,” Brock nodded and put his arm around Skye, leaning in to kiss her. Alisha and Lincoln both politely looked away.

_Be careful, my love._

_Always. I’ll be back before you know it._ He smiled down at her, washed a last wave of love and warmth over her, before heading for the door.

Skye had to brace herself against his loss for a moment - but he was still with her, his touch on her mind loving even as she felt his grim determination building. She forced a smile to her lips.

“Since you two are both medically inclined, Jemma - that’s our biochem expert, Lincoln, you remember - wondered if you would like a tour of the labs? We’ve got some really fascinating tech I think you’d both be interested in. Starting with the new prosthesis she and Fitz are building for Coulson. I might leave out the horrifically dangerous modifications Bobbi is trying to convince Mack to make to her wheelchair, though.”

The trio laughed together as Skye led the way out of the room. Skye kept up a running commentary, pointing out the residence wing, the communal kitchen / cafeteria, the lounge her team frequented and other locations of minor note on their way to the labs.

“Skye,” Lincoln said after listening for a few minutes. She was either trying to make a good impression as tour guide or something was bothering her. He hadn’t known her long, but she wasn’t exactly hiding it well. “Hey. You can relax. It’s just us.”

She smiled wryly for a moment. “I always have a hard time when Brock is going away,” she admitted. “I just have to keep busy for a while. It’s not like he’s totally gone; he’s always in the back of my mind.”

“Your bond is that strong?” Alisha asked, a little surprised.

Skye chuckled. “Yeah, it is.” She paused for a moment, then decided that if they were joining the team - not to mention Alisha being family - she probably ought to tell them. “We didn’t tell anyone at Afterlife before, but our bond is extremely tight. We can see through each other’s eyes in a pinch, if we’re in reasonable proximity. And not only can we communicate mentally, but if he wanted to Brock could listen in on our conversation right now.” She shrugged. “He isn’t, at the moment. And distance does dampen the connection. But we can always talk to each other.”

“Wow,” Lincoln said after a moment, awed. “I didn’t know that was even possible. I’ve never heard of a bond that close.”

“If I remember right, you’ve never had two Inhumans bond before the change and then re-bond after, either,” Skye answered with a shrug.

“That’s true,” Alisha agreed. “We also seldom have two people go through the mists at the same time, either. It can be done, but it hasn’t been done the way you two did in a _very_ long time.”

“So we were told,” Skye said softly. “Eventually. Anyway, here are the labs.” She headed over to where Fitz and Simmons were working on a prosthetic for Coulson. “Alisha, Lincoln, I’d like you to meet Agents Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz. Often collectively referred to as FitzSimmons.” She smiled, relaxing as she performed introductions. “Fitz, Jemma, this is Lincoln Campbell - whom you’ve met briefly, Jemma - and Alisha Barron.”

“Both Inhumans?” Jemma asked, but her tone was curious rather than disturbed or fearful. Skye breathed a small sigh of relief that Jemma seemed to finally be getting over her fear of their powers. “Sorry, of course you are. I’ve run blood work on both of you.”

“They’re also both in medical fields,” Skye explained. “I still have to talk to the Director, but they have provisionally agreed to join SHIELD.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Jemma exclaimed brightly, always enthused to have new people with medical skills available.

“Welcome to SHIELD,” Fitz added with a small smile. “Come take a look at this; we’re tailoring it…”

Skye stepped back and watched for a few minutes with a small, pleased smile as the Science Twins began working with their two new team members without a qualm. In the back of her mind, she felt Brock’s wordless inquiry and she shared with him the sight of the four scientists bonding over what they did best. She felt his quiet, pleased acceptance and smiled once more before slipping out of the labs.

She headed directly to Coulson’s office; the door was open, but she paused in the doorway when she saw that he wasn’t alone. May and Trip were both seated on Phil’s comfortable chairs.

“Skye. Come on in,” Phil said when he saw her. He looked tired to her eyes, but he was comfortably up and about with his arm in a sling. “What we were discussing should involve you, too. I take it Rumlow’s already gone?”

“Yeah. Restraining Hunter is beyond most of us, right now,” she answered with a shrug. “But if we really need his input, I can ask when he’s not otherwise occupied.”

Phil nodded. “Good. We’re going to be sending Trip back to the Avengers.”

“Because of Wanda?” she asked with a twinkle of mischief in her eye.

Trip grinned back, and Phil chuckled as he shook his head. “Not _just_ that, though it factors in, to a degree. Truth is that SHIELD needs some way to keep on top of what the Avengers are doing. And if Project Caterpillar is going forward, you will want someone there you can liaise with so that you and the Avengers don’t end up with conflicting plans and agendas.”

Skye nodded thoughtfully. “That’s probably valid. Brock and I were intending to meet with them, anyway. And Trip would be one more person in place to keep things running smoothly.”

Coulson nodded. “Then it’s settled.” He nodded at May, who passed a folder to Trip as well as one to Skye. “These are the details of what we’d like in a cooperative relationship with the Avengers. If they want changes - and you’re probably best off discussing with Rogers and Romanoff, they’re more likely to be willing to actually set up terms - we can discuss it over video call.”

“Will you be telling them you’re alive, sir?” Trip asked politely.

Coulson froze for a moment, then sighed. “I’d rather not, if we don’t have to. But we’ll take it as it comes.”

“Wanda Maximoff already knows about you,” Trip said with a small frown. “She’s promised not to say anything, especially with me gone. But she could slip.” Before Coulson could protest, Trip shook his head. “I didn’t tell her. She just knew.”

“Her power,” May commented with a look at Coulson.

Phil looked pained for a moment. “I just…”

“Why don’t we get everything set up first?” Skye suggested. “After Brock and I get a chance to sort things out with them, then we three can break the news to them together.” When Phil still hesitated, she added, “It’s going to hurt the trust we’re trying to build with them if we have to keep lying about who’s in charge at SHIELD. It’s going to come out at some point; nothing stays secret forever.”

“You’re right. Fine; we’ll tell them the truth after you and Brock sort things out with them,” Coulson finally capitulated.

“Good,” Skye answered, her tone satisfied. “Can you cope until then, Trip?”

Trip nodded with a smile of his own. “Yeah, girl, I think Wanda and I can keep things under wraps until then.”

“So, in the meantime, we spoke to Alisha and Lincoln…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The Avengers will accept Trip, for Wanda’s sake if nothing else. But he does genuinely have the personality to make a good interface between SHIELD and the Avengers. It’s hard to _not_ like Trip, after all.**
> 
>  


	58. Everyone's Got Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the hunt is on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few loose ends from the end of S2, and a few new things as well.

__   


_Well, we did leave off with Rumlow and Hunter going hunting..._

 

Ward looked up at an abrupt knock on the door to the office he occupied. He was alone, though he knew his men had the building secured for the moment. But it really was too big a facility for their small numbers and he’d have to abandon it when he was done collecting the files on the backup servers.

“Come in,” he called out, his hand automatically going to the gun at his hip - just in case. He relaxed marginally when Rollins walked in, only to tense again when he recognized the Winter Soldier trailing behind. “What the hell?”

“Relax, Ward,” Rollins said with a low chuckle. “I found him wandering around; his programming was starting to break down after so long alone. But I’ve worked with him before, know a few of his triggers. So he’s back on our side.”

Ward accepted Rollins’ assurances with a brief nod, though privately he had his doubts. “I have some good news as well,” he pressed onward, not willing to be one-upped by the former STRIKE 2IC. “I’ve managed to gain access to what’s left of HYDRA’s financial structure. And I have contacts for several hidden cells; groups previously only known to the local Heads.”

Rollins raised an eyebrow, impressed in spite of himself. “That’s useful. Then we can contact them for additional manpower?”

“All the manpower we could want.” Ward grinned smugly. “All the money, too. Lots of hidden bank accounts I know for a fact SHIELD can’t trace. Some of them haven’t been touched since the 1940’s.”

“Nazi loot,” Rollins nodded, again rather impressed. “Nice.”

The computer in front of Ward beeped, the hard drive whirring to a halt, and he unplugged it and slid it into a pocket of his cargo pants. “We’re done here. Time to move out.”

“Why?” Rollins frowned. “It’s a good facility. Everything we need.”

“It’s already compromised.” Ward nodded across the room, and Rollins and the Asset both turned, moved slightly to look. There was a dead man on the floor behind one of the desks, a bullet hole in the centre of his forehead. “He was a traitor.”

Rollins bared his teeth. “You should have left him for me. Traitors don’t deserve a quick death.”

“There’ll be plenty of killing to be done soon enough, Rollins. Even you’ll get your fill of blood.” Dismissing the issue, Ward strode for the door. “Come on. SHIELD won’t waste any time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was less than twenty minutes later that the facility’s front door blew in and Brock and Hunter strode in with guns at the ready, like a pair of avenging angels. They stormed through the building… and found nothing but hastily abandoned workstations. And a dead body in the server room.

“Huh,” Hunter scowled, giving the dead man a kick. “I knew him. A merc. This is where the tip came from.”

Brock was frowning at the main server terminal. Bent down to look underneath. “Fuck, let’s go!”

“What?”

“Timer!” He didn’t have to say any more. Both men ran for it.

They were barely clear of the building before the bomb went off.

Hunter coughed and rolled over, spitting out dirt. Glared up at Rumlow, already on his feet, gun at the ready, scanning the area just as though they hadn’t been hurled violently through the air by the force of the explosion behind them. “Well, there goes any chance of using the computers to figure out what Ward was up to.”

“It’s obvious what they were up to,” Brock replied, offering a hand, which Hunter grudgingly accepted. “They were after resources. Money and manpower. And I’m afraid they’ve found both.”

“Why do you say _they_?” Hunter coughed up some more dirt.

“Because I found this.” Brock showed him something small in his hand. Hunter squinted.

“A matchstick?” he said dubiously.

“A chewed matchstick. On the floor by the desk in the main server room. Ward’s not going to let just anybody in there.” Brock flipped the matchstick between his fingers. “We could get Simmons to run DNA, but I’m already confident that this belonged to Jack Rollins.”

“Your former deputy.” Hunter made a face. “Fuck. He’s enhanced too, isn’t he? That’s two of them now.”

“Yeah.” Brock looked at the matchstick for a moment longer before pocketing it. “Which might actually create more problems for Ward than it solves.”

Hunter frowned as Brock started to walk back to where they’d left the quinjet. “What do you mean by that?” He shouldered his rifle and hurried to catch up with the other man.

“They were both enhanced by HYDRA, as was I. But I had the Inhuman DNA already and the enhancements affected me differently.” Brock hesitated, wondering how much Hunter knew, then shrugged mentally. The other man at least deserved to know what he was up against. “All the others got affected, in some way, mentally. Mainly it just exacerbated issues they already had.”

“And everyone’s got issues,” Hunter said dryly.

“Yes. Guys who worked for HYDRA more than most,” Brock’s tone was equally dry. “Rollins had a sadistic streak that got a lot worse. Ward, I didn’t know before, but I’m guessing he was always a bit obsessive-compulsive. There were very, very few of them - of _us_ \- that could tolerate working with the others. We were all natural leaders, exceptional physical specimens. It’s why we were chosen in the first place.”

“An army of men that couldn’t work together, wow, I bet that’s a result HYDRA didn’t enjoy,” Hunter said with a gleeful smirk. “But _you_ managed to work with Rollins. And Ward, to some extent, I understand?”

“Yeah,” Brock agreed. “I ended up stronger than either of them, and without their instability. So in any outright conflict, I won. Kept them in line, more or less.” He grimaced. “Frankly, with the kind of missions STRIKE got sent on, there was usually enough violence for Rollins to be kept happy. Ward, though, with nobody to keep him in check - his obsession only worsened.”

“Jesus,” Hunter murmured under his breath, but he said nothing more, until “Poor Agent Palamas.”

“I’m afraid she was a useful tool to Ward, nothing more. She imprinted on him after Whitehall’s death.”

“Yeah. Did I tell you about how she fawned over him? Made me queasy just to watch, it did.” Hunter shuddered as Rumlow pressed a button on a remote and the stealthed quinjet’s ramp lowered. “She needed help, not… whatever he gave her.”

“She did. She was a damn good agent, once.” Rumlow hesitated before saying quietly “We lost a lot of people who deserved a second chance. Raina, too. She made it possible for Skye to understand what Jiaying was really up to. Sacrificed her life to do it.”

“Shit,” Hunter slipped into the co-pilot’s seat, eyed him sideways. “I did feel kind of sorry for Raina. She was absolutely gorgeous, before. To turn into that spiky _thing_ … well I think I’d have been pretty fucking pissed off at the world, too.”

Brock grinned, starting the quinjet’s engines. “Eh, wouldn’t make much difference to your ugly mug.”

“Fuck you, Rumlow!” but Hunter laughed. “Oh well. Back to square one in the hunt, then.”

“Maybe,” Brock agreed. “I need to talk to Sam Wilson. See if he’s got any leads on Rollins. I’ll get in touch once we get back to the Playground.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re really going, then?” Skye asked, as she came across May in the locker room packing a bag.

“I am,” May turned to face her, gave her a smile. “I need a break, Skye. Time to switch my brain off and relax - time to reconnect with Andrew, decide where we both go from here. Coulson can get in touch with me in an emergency, but I’ll only be gone a couple of weeks.” She held up the red bikini in her hand, grinning before tucking it into her bag - and following it with a pistol. “I’ll be back before you know it, but I want some sun, sand and surf first.”

“I thought you were going to say another _S_ then,” Skye teased.

“Maybe some of that too,” May smirked, “but I don’t kiss and tell.” Reaching out, she pulled Skye into a hug, surprising her. May rarely initiated affectionate contact. “Take care of yourself, Skye. And keep an eye on Coulson for me.”

“Of course,” Skye agreed, hugging her back. “And don’t hurry back. Enjoy yourself. We’ll muddle along just fine without you for a little while.”

“That remains to be seen,” May retorted before scooping up her bag and heading out, leaving Skye chuckling behind her. Following May out the door, she stopped and stared at the two filthy men just about to go into the men’s locker room.

“Brock!”

“Oh, shit,” he started guiltily. He’d deliberately kept his mind distant from her, not wanting her to know he was back until he’d had a chance to clean up.

“Oh, you are so on your own here, mate,” the locker room door slammed as Hunter made a quick getaway.

“What _happened_?” Skye surveyed Brock, looking for injuries.

“Ward’s usual tricks. I think we missed them by minutes, and he’d rigged the place to blow.” Brock shrugged. “Our timing was pretty damn lucky, actually. Two minutes later and we’d have been in the building when it blew, and Hunter at least probably wouldn’t be alive to talk about it.”

“Oh, God,” she reached up to gently touch his dirt-smeared face. “You were too close.”

He shrugged. “Hunter’s not got a scratch on him, so we weren’t _that_ close. Just got sprayed with a lot of dirt and debris.” He wasn’t going to mention that he’d deliberately stayed behind Hunter as they ran for it, ensuring that he’d protect the other man with his tougher, enhanced body. Skye already knew, he suspected, judging from her expression. She shook her head at him, smiling slightly, but obviously relieved that he wasn’t hurt.

“Just be more careful, love.”

“I’ll try.” He pulled the matchstick, now safely in an evidence bag, out of his pocket and offered it. “Would you do me a favour while I get cleaned up? I need DNA off this. I think it may have been Rollins’. I’ve touched it too, though.”

“Of course, I’ll run it down to the lab now,” Skye took the bag. “You think Rollins and Ward may have joined forces?”

“Unfortunately, yes, I do. I’m very glad I didn’t let Hunter go without me. He might have run into the pair of them and - well, I doubt Bobbi could take losing him right now. At least he knows now, knows that he can’t go up against them alone.”

“I’m coming with you next time,” Skye said decisively. “Maybe Lincoln and Alisha, too. They won’t be expecting _that_.” Her smile was quite vicious, and she felt Brock’s delighted pride in her.

“I love it when you get all BAMF,” he murmured huskily.

“And I love it when you’re clean, so go shower,” laughing, she danced back as he reached for her. “I’ll go down to the lab!”

Brock grumbled for a moment, then followed Hunter into the men’s locker room. Skye grinned and headed back towards the labs. Unsurprisingly, the group was still tinkering with options and specs for Coulson’s hand. “Hey guys. Sorry to break up the party, but I need someone to do a DNA check please.”

“Of course,” Simmons slid smoothly into professional mode. “What have you got?”

Skye passed over the evidence bag. “Brock found this at the location he and Hunter checked out. He apologized that he touched it too, but he thinks it may give us more information about who we’re up against. We need to check it against our SHIELD database records first.” She deliberately didn’t mention who Brock thought it had belonged to, not wanting to possibly bias the results.

“Oh, well, at least Brock’s DNA should be easy enough to identify at this point. And anyone else’s should be very different,” Jemma answered with a resigned air. Then she looked up at Alisha and Lincoln. “Does one of you want to help? I can help show you some of our other equipment.”

Alisha and Lincoln traded a glance, then Alisha nodded. “Sure. I’d like to see how it works. ER nurses don’t often get to play with the big toys,” she quipped with a small smirk.

Skye laughed as Jemma led the other woman away. “So, how’s it going?” she asked Lincoln and Fitz before they could get absorbed in work again.

“It’s… good,” Lincoln said after a moment. “I think you and Brock are right. This could be something worth doing, for me.”

Skye smiled. “Good. Director Coulson will want to see you tomorrow. Alisha too. Get the ball rolling on making you all official-like,” she teased lightly.

“Will you be there?” Lincoln asked softly, slanting a glance at Fitz; the young engineer, however, was focused on the holoprojection of the hand design and wasn’t listening.

“No, I’m afraid I won’t,” Skye answered. “But don’t worry. Coulson really is big on second chances and being able to prove yourself. You’ll be fine.”

“Are you going somewhere?” Lincoln asked, curious about why she’d work to recruit them and then not be there to make it official.

“I have some people to go see. Including my dad.” Skye bit her lip for a moment, then sighed. “I know he won’t remember me. But I need to make sure he’s settling in alright. That he has a chance to be happy for once.”

“I understand,” Lincoln answered gently. He wrapped an arm around Skye’s shoulders for a moment, and she leaned against him briefly. She felt Brock’s support in the back of her mind, too, and let them comfort her. And thank goodness he wasn’t a jealous man, because more of her closest friends were male than female.

“Thanks,” she said after a moment of quiet. “I know you’ll be fine. And I will, too.”

“Is Brock going with you?”

“Of course,” she answered, with no thought required.

“Then I know you’ll be fine, too. He won’t let you stay sad for long,” Lincoln said firmly, ruffling her hair a little.

_I’m so lucky,_ Skye thought silently to Brock.

_Why’s that, sweetheart?_ he responded.

_Because after everything we’ve been through, we still have the most awesome family right here. And it’s growing._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye and Brock slowly walked down the street towards the new veterinarian’s office opening up. It was a moderately sized town in Pennsylvania, a place there was no record of Cal - or any of the family members whose names Skye knew - having ever lived. No one to recognize him. She hoped he would be happy there.

She smiled as Cal - now Dr. Winslow - greeted a dog outside his office as he opened up for the day. “Oh! Hey, there, little funny face. You coming to see me today, hmm? You come inside. We'll get you a treat. Come on.” He chuckled as he ushered the dog and owner inside. Then he paused, seeing Skye and Brock watching him. “Can I help you?” he asked with a friendly smile.

“Just passing by,” Skye told him with a small smile. “Nice place.”

“Oh, thanks. Well, we're just getting up and running. It's gonna be a magical place once we get totally moved in.” Skye’s smile froze just a little at his use of the often-heard phrase, but she shook it off as he kept talking. “You know, we already have adoption days every Saturday. Tell your friends. Free spaying and neutering, too. Just ask for Dr. Winslow. I'm sorry. And you are?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. This is Brock, and I’m Daisy.” She wasn’t quite sure why she gave that name. Maybe on some level she wanted to keep hearing that name in his voice. Even if the name meant nothing to him anymore.

“That's a lovely name,” Dr. Winslow told her. She smiled her thanks. “Remember, a house is not a home without a pet!” he continued in a jovial voice.

“We’ll have to keep that in mind,” Brock said with a small smile of his own.

“We just got engaged. Maybe when things settle down, we can think about a pet,” Skye added, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. She wasn’t sure they’d ever have a life where they could think about having a dog.

“Oh, did you? Congratulations!” Dr. Winslow exclaimed.

“Thank you,” Brock replied. “I’m a very lucky man.”

Winslow looked between them for a moment, then nodded. “I think I agree with you. Well, have a nice day and I hope to see you around!” He smiled once more, then headed into his office.

Brock wrapped an arm around Skye as they continued down the block back towards the car. Coulson had loaned them Lola, saying that someone should get her out once in a while and that Skye was the one he trusted with her since he couldn’t currently drive her. Skye had smiled as she accepted the keys.

“So,” Skye said as they reached the car. “Next stop, New York?”

“Sure. You alright, sweetheart?” Brock asked gently.

“Yeah. I am. He has so much to give… and now a way to do it. I just hope he’ll be happy here.”

“I’m sure he will. We did everything we could; his life is his own, now.” Skye nodded her agreement as they buckled in. It would be a rather long drive, but they weren’t expected until later in the afternoon anyway.

They spent most of the drive discussing options for dealing with the Avengers. Though their bond gave them the unique advantage of being able to discuss issues both quickly and silently, they wanted to be sure they had the bases covered before they arrived.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who wanted to see more of the Avengers... well, we're not quite done with them yet.


	59. A Common Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Skye go to meet with the Avengers, to share information and negotiate an alliance going forward. Skye makes an important personal decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _From this chapter onwards, Skye will be primarily referred to as Daisy, in keeping with the character’s apparent motives for changing her name after S2._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/grey%20suit_zpsrogopswf.jpg.html)

Trip was waiting for them, his trademark wide smile firmly in place. He dished out a huge hug to Skye as she got out of Lola, followed that up with a manly hand-clasp and shoulder-bump for Brock that made Skye grin.

There was another man standing a few feet back. Skye blinked for a moment, thinking she was seeing double, and then smiled. Brock had said once that Sam Wilson looked enough like Trip they could easily be brothers.

“You must be Sam,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’m… Daisy.” It had felt so right to use that name with her father. It was the name Cal had given her, after all. The only thing she could do to honour him.

Sam cocked his head slightly, his gaze sliding to Brock, who shrugged minutely. And then he smiled, nearly as widely as Trip, and shook her offered hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Daisy. Rumlow has bent my ear so many times about you I feel like I know you already, though Trip tells me you’ve both been through some changes lately.”

They knew that Trip had been given permission to talk to the Avengers about their recently acquired powers - and about the Inhumans out there in the world, in case they came across any rogues.

Brock stepped forward to greet Sam. “We have. There’s a lot for me to fill you in on, but frankly the time has come for the rest of your team to know what’s going on, as well.”

“You’re not wrong,” Sam said wryly. “Trip’s told us as much as he’s allowed, and probably more than he intended with Romanoff doing the questioning - but I know Cap, at least, still has a lot of questions.”

“I’m sure he does,” Brock agreed wryly. “We’ll answer them to the best of our ability, I promise. We have permission to reveal all but one or two still-classified secrets, though I’m sure Cap knows we’ll want something in return.”

“Everything’s got a price,” Sam agreed, inviting them to enter the facility with him. “But come on ahead. The place is just about up and running, we’re not fully staffed yet, but the catering crew are in. Stark hired the best.”

“Is he here?” Brock asked curiously.

“No. He’s - not planning to be part of the permanent roster. Guy’s got a lot of mess in his head. And with Banner gone AWOL, those two were pretty close. I think Stark’s gonna concentrate on looking for him, for now.”

“Fair enough,” Brock agreed cheerfully.

They entered what appeared to be a large dining area. A buffet of snacks was laid out on a table, and two tall blond men were already tucking in, plates in hand. Dressed casually, it took Daisy a moment to recognise them as Thor and Captain America.

When Daisy hesitated, Trip tucked her arm around his and tugged her over to the buffet table. He handed her a plate and said cheerfully, “Help yourselves. Dinner’s a few hours out.”

“I… okay,” she agreed, and after a moment she picked out a couple of things to snack on. Picked up a bottle of water to go with it and waited while Trip made his selections. Brock and Sam were just behind them, and the quartet soon followed Thor and Steve to cluster around one end of a long dining table.

“Rumlow,” Steve stood up to greet their guests, holding his hand out to Brock. They shook with a smile and Brock reached back to pull Daisy forward.

“This is my soulmate and fiancee,” he began introductions with more than a little pride in his voice, “Daisy Johnson.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Steve replied, taking her hand when she offered it.

“Pleased to meet you, too,” she responded easily. “But call me Daisy, please. It will be nice to get to know the man behind the stories he’s told me,” she added, tilting her head to indicate Brock. He didn’t talk much about his time with STRIKE, but she’d heard all about them working together to stop Insight.

Steve chuckled. “At least his stories are likely closer to the truth than some of what the media says.”

“Well, the media isn’t everything.” She smiled when Steve grinned and nodded at her comment. Then she turned her attention to Thor, who stood beside Cap. She was a little surprised when he took her outstretched hand and kissed the back of it instead of shaking.

“Lady Daisy,” he greeted her formally.

“Prince Thor,” she replied, her tone just as formal. When he released her hand, she pressed her fist into her chest and bowed briefly the way Lady Sif often did. She watched his eyes go wide as he returned the salute, before narrowing curiously. _Careful_ , Skye thought to herself. _He doesn’t know Sif’s been here!_

Brock repeated the gesture when Thor’s eyes turned to him, then held out his hand. Thor clasped his forearm in a warrior’s greeting. “Brock Rumlow,” Brock introduced himself.

“Son of Rumlow,” Thor greeted him. “I have heard much about your skills in battle. I am honored to meet with you.”

“Please, have a seat,” Steve invited them. Daisy found herself settled between Trip and Brock, with Sam between Brock and Steve.

“We figured we’d keep the group small for now,” Steve said, his tone friendly, “and also, it really is cheating to bring Wanda to negotiations.”

Both Brock and Daisy laughed at that, glancing over at Trip, who grinned. “She’ll pick it all out of my brain later, anyway,” he said cheerfully.

“Thanks for the consideration, Steve,” Brock said warmly. “It’s appreciated.”

“Well, since SHIELD is the one who asked for this meeting, why don’t you begin?” Steve invited with an open-handed gesture. “I’ll admit I was somewhat concerned to realise that SHIELD was still actually up and running, albeit in a very different form, but the Helicarrier did save thousands of lives in Sokovia. So I owe you a hearing for that, if nothing else.”

Brock raised an eyebrow and Steve grinned. “And for destroying an Insight Helicarrier for me, yeah, yeah, all right.”

Smiling, Brock glanced at Daisy. _The floor is yours, love_.

She took a deep breath. “I became a full agent on the day SHIELD fell,” she began, saw the look of sympathy on Steve’s face and decided to look at Thor instead. “But I was a provisional agent before that, working with a team who’d become the family I’d never had. Except for one.”

Thor’s face darkened. “The traitor Grant Ward,” he rumbled. “Son of Triplett has told us of his treachery.”

“He’s just one of the dangers that SHIELD knows is out there. One of our agents, Lance Hunter, is a former mercenary with ties in that community. He’s started to hear whispers that former HYDRA agents who’d turned merc are being pulled back in. Ward’s name has come up, and we now know that he’s working with Jack Rollins.”

Steve and Sam both stiffened at that, looking at Brock. “That’s right,” he confirmed. “And both of them got the same HYDRA enhancements that I did.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sam said emphatically.

“Exactly,” Daisy agreed, smiling tightly. “Which means we have a common enemy.”

“We certainly do,” Steve agreed. He looked at Sam, then back at her and Brock. “We’re already searching for Bucky, of course, which I’m sure you know,” he told Daisy, “and all of our contacts have instructions to keep their eyes open for Rollins, too. We can easily add Ward to that list.”

“Sergeant Barnes is already on our list, along with Rollins and Ward,” Brock replied steadily. “Thanks for that, Steve.”

“In addition,” Daisy said, with a quick glance at Trip, “We understand that Trip’s briefed you on what happened to Brock and I in San Juan, and on the Inhuman race.”

Thor’s face turned grim. “Indeed. The Kree’s meddling was a dark age for Midgard. That it should come to pass that you two, who have already given so much, should suffer thus…”

“It was involuntary for us, and difficult at first,” Daisy admitted, “but there are others who chose to accept the change willingly, to embrace it. One of them is Brock’s sister.”

That caused a good deal of surprise, and questions, and more questions about what powers Alisha and the other Inhumans manifested, and what exactly SHIELD planned to do about them. The talks dragged on for hours, with occasional breaks to eat and drink, but eventually they had the details for a tentative alliance thrashed out in notes taken by Trip, who both sides had agreed on as the ‘chairman’ for the talks, since he had a strong vested interest in the two sides coming to a mutually beneficial agreement.

“We done?” Sam stretched, wincing as joints cracked. “You enhanced, Inhumans and Asgardians might be perfectly fine sitting for so long, but I need to move.”

“I hear ya, buddy,” Trip said with a grin, and the others laughed and agreed it was time to finish for the day.

Brock and Daisy had been invited to stay the night, quarters prepared for them, but first there was dinner and meeting the other Avengers.

_She’s shorter than I expected_ , was Daisy’s first thought on meeting Natasha Romanoff. The redhead was a good couple of inches short of Daisy’s own height, and so was Wanda Maximoff. Vision was a bit of a shock; since there were no clear photos of him yet available she hadn’t quite known what to expect. As tall as Thor and a bizarre shade of magenta, his hand felt extremely odd when she shook it. It took her a moment to realise that she felt no vibrations in him. And then she started wondering if ‘him’ was the correct pronoun.

Pietro Maximoff was more average in height, with a young face and a head of white hair. Not just platinum blonde, but truly white. It was unusual, but not unattractive. When the twins came into the room, Daisy noticed how Wanda’s eyes lit up when she saw Trip; she was happy to see that her friend had found someone to love. It was something that didn’t happen for a lot of SHIELD agents.

Brock greeted James Rhodes with the ease of one used to military interactions, though the man was remarkably relaxed for a colonel. Probably from all the years of being friends with Stark, though the Avengers were hardly a military unit either. Rhodey, as he said they should call him, congratulated Brock and Daisy on their engagement when she joined them for introductions.

Wanda’s eyes brightened and she smiled softly when she saw Daisy and Brock together the first time. “You are bonded?” she asked, her soft accent sounding exotic to Daisy’s ears. “It is good to see such a successful bonding. I hope you always remain so happy.”

Brock shot a glance at Daisy, who just shrugged and smiled at the younger woman. “Thank you. I think we will be. We’ve come through a lot together in a short time.”

Wanda nodded. “I can see some of it. Your bond has been greatly tested. But I believe you will always triumph in the end.”

“I hope you and Trip do the same,” Brock answered. “He’s a good man, and he deserves to be happy.”

“I will always try my best to help him remain so,” Wanda answered with a serene smile.

“I’m glad. He’s like a brother to me,” Daisy added. “It’s good to see him so happy.”

“You care much for his happiness. I am glad.”

“Uh-oh,” Trip teased, coming over to join the two women as Brock moved away. “Do I need to be worried about the stories you two are telling?”

“Not at all,” Wanda answered with another of those gentle smiles up at Trip.

“I was just saying that I’m glad to see you happy, Trip,” Daisy said softly.

Trip dropped an arm around both women’s shoulders, steering them towards the table where dinner was being set up. “I have a lot to be happy about, Skye. But thanks. We can’t all be lucky enough to have what you and Rum do, but I’m more than happy with what I’ve got.” He winked down at Wanda, who giggled. “So, it’s been bugging me, girl. Why the name change?”

“Couple of reasons,” Daisy answered in a low tone. “I found my parents after twenty-five years, only to lose them again within a few days. My dad always called me Daisy, even when I didn’t want to accept the name as mine. But now, it’s one of the few ways I have to remember him and how much he loved me. What he gave up for me. Also, it’s nice to actually have a legitimate legal identity. I found a copy of my birth certificate in Dad’s things, and AC is helping me change it so that Skye is legally my middle name.”

“Daisy Skye Johnson,” Trip said, trying out the name. “I like it. It suits you. Though you’re a little young to be a flower child.”

Daisy laughed for a moment, but nodded. “It still feels a little strange,” she admitted. “But I want to get used to it. And being here, with a group of people who are mostly just meeting me for the first time, I thought it would be an easy place to start.”

Trip ruffled her hair playfully. “Can I still call you Skye when it’s just us?”

“Yeah, if you want,” Daisy answered with a small smile. “It can be a team thing if need be.” Both Trip and Wanda smiled back, understanding that she really meant that it could be a _family_ thing.

It took Daisy a few minutes to realise that someone was watching her. Romanoff, she realised after looking around, and the super-spy had obviously been waiting for her to notice, because she tilted her head slightly.

“I’m going to talk to the Widow,” Daisy said softly to Brock, who nodded, comfortable that no harm would come to her here.

Natasha watched her come, unsmiling, her green eyes steady and focussed. Daisy gave her a hesitant smile, and then thought to ask.

“Is Hawkeye not here? I understood that you two were pretty much joined at the hip.”

“Indeed, and who told you that?” Natasha responded calmly. “Not Rumlow; he rarely saw us together.”

_Shit. She hasn’t even started interrogating me yet and I’ve already dropped myself in it._ “Melinda May,” she said hastily, and then, hedging her bets, “Bobbi Morse, too.”

Natasha’s eyebrows flew up. “May and Morse are with SHIELD? Of course,” she murmured, almost to herself. “That makes a lot more sense, now. But who…? Gonzales?”

Daisy couldn’t speak. Couldn’t make herself admit that her own mother murdered Robert Gonzales trying to start a war against SHIELD. So she just shook her head, and a moment later Brock was at her side, sensing her distress.

“Leave it out, Romanoff,” he said curtly. “There’s nothing in our alliance agreement that gives you permission to interrogate our agents.”

Natasha smiled. “Of course. You’re going to have to ‘fess up to who’s running the show sooner rather than later though, you know.”

“It’s not our call,” Brock responded, and after a moment Natasha nodded, accepting that. She walked away to join Pietro and Rhodey, leaving Daisy to sag against Brock.

“She never even answered my question,” Daisy realised finally. “Wow. Her reputation’s justified.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Brock muttered. “What did you ask her?”

“Where Hawkeye is.”

“Oh - I asked that, too. Steve said he’s taking some personal leave. He’s due back any day now. And Thor says he’s heading back to Asgard tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t get a straight answer. He got all mystical on me. But I don’t think it’s anything to do with _us_ , the Inhumans, I mean.”

They were standing alone together, both speaking as much mentally as aloud. No-one could possibly have overheard - except the Scarlet Witch, Daisy thought, glancing across the room and seeing Wanda quickly look away. But Trip trusted Wanda not to reveal their secrets, and they would have to be satisfied with that.

“I want to talk to Wanda, actually,” Brock said, following the direction of her gaze. “I’m curious to know if her mental abilities work anything like our soulbond does.”

“That does sound interesting,” she agreed, and gratefully followed his lead to go and start socialising again.

Wanda was quite happy to discuss her powers and any similarities they might have with soulbonds, and their discussion soon had an interested audience.

“Have you ever heard of people getting soulmarks after a near-death experience?” Sam asked, apparently out of the blue.

“No,” Daisy shook her head.

“Yes,” Brock and Trip said at the same moment.

“Happened to a friend of ours,” Brock said cheerfully, “you weren’t there, babe, when we found out. In San Juan. Fitz, he got a soulmark. We think it happened when, well… come to think of it,” he looked curiously at Sam. “His soulmark says Sam.”

“It does?” Sam blinked, and then asked slowly, “Is Fitz his first name?”

“I… actually have no idea,” Trip said with a sudden chuckle. “He’s just Fitz.”

“It’s Leo, you ass,” Brock snorted and Skye giggled.

“I don’t suppose that’s short for Leopold?”

They all stared at Sam.

“And this incident when he got his soulmark, was that a couple of days after the battle at the Triskelion?”

Daisy managed to find her voice. “Yes, it would’ve been. He stopped breathing due to an… incident… with a HYDRA agent. He was in a coma for weeks, and he took months to recover. He’s really only just recently back to what I’d call fully himself…” She bit her lip and looked away, then took a deep breath. Her eyes met Sam’s and she offered him a small smile. “I’ll introduce you as soon as I can if you like. But be sure you mean it, because I won’t let him be hurt again. He’s been through too much.”

Brock chuckled, more from the look on Sam’s face than Skye’s threat. Sam just nodded solemnly after studying her for a moment. “I have no desire to hurt him. I want to help if I can; I’m sure Brock told you that I work for the VA?”

She nodded. “I know what you’ve done to help other people. But Fitz was there for me when I needed all the support anyone could offer, and he gave it without question. I never again want to see him as low as he was parts of this past year.” She shook her head and relaxed visibly. “But if you can be for him what Brock is for me, I will be very glad to see him so happy.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of soulmates, though?” Sam asked. “To be what the other needs?”

“It is,” Brock agreed.

“I’ll talk to him when we get back to base,” Daisy said after a moment. “See if he can be spared to come here for a while.”

“We do have a lovely set of labs here,” Trip put forward. “Maybe Fitz and Simmons can both come work here for a while.”

“We’ll have to talk to the Director. But it’s not impossible,” Brock hedged and Trip nodded his agreement.

“Fitz is a scientist?” Sam asked curiously.

“An engineer, actually, but yes. He has created a number of devices for SHIELD team use,” Brock explained.

“Saved our butts more than once, too,” Daisy added.

“Sounds like a guy I’m keen to meet,” Sam hesitated, and then said rather shyly; “Is he cute?”

Brock laughed. “I’m sure you’ll think so!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **How could he not? Sam will have to wait a little while longer, though.**


	60. Little Does HE Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki makes a mistake, and Lorelei sets her plans into motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice photo of Steve and Sam for you, since we have some nice Bro action with the two of them and no Rumlow this chapter :)

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Miscllaneous/steve%20and%20sam_zpsut9gmmde.jpg.html)

Lorelei watched, masked by illusions and hidden behind a pillar, as Thor strode up the centre of the throne room and knelt respectfully before ‘Odin’.

“My son,” Loki said, rising and gesturing for Thor to stand. “Asgard has missed your presence.”

“And I have missed Asgard,” Thor said in tones that said he really hadn’t, particularly. Lorelei sneered to herself. _Who could enjoy Midgard?_ Though _some_ humans did have skills she appreciated.

Loki invited Thor into a private antechamber so that they could speak privately, and Lorelei followed, creeping into a side room where Loki had created a tiny portal. She would be able to see and hear everything. Though Loki would be furious if he found out - she was supposed to wait in his chambers until he returned to spirit her out of the palace. Thor’s return had been rather sooner than they had expected.

“So, my son,” Loki said, settling himself in a chair, “tell me of your doings on Midgard. Great schemes have been afoot there, Heimdall tells me.”

“The most important from our point of view is the emergence of the Mindstone, Father,” Thor said promptly.

Lorelei’s heart almost stopped. Eyes wide, she stared at the tiny portal in shock. The _Mindstone_? What was _that_ doing on Midgard?

“Where is it? Did you bring it back with you?” Loki asked, in a voice that was a little too eager.

“I did not. It is safe on Midgard, Father. I must tell you that I visited the Pool of the Norns, and had a vision…”

“And what did it show you, my son?” Loki’s tone turned curious; Thor had seldom sought wisdom in the past. It would be interesting to hear what the pool had shown him.

Lorelei didn’t listen to Thor’s blathering about Asgard’s society crumbling before his eyes. “Ask him where the Mindstone is now, you idiot!” she hissed, wishing Loki could hear her. It took him an unconscionably long time to lead Thor back to that most important subject. And when he did, Lorelei listened in utter amazement.

The Mindstone had been emplaced in a being of created intelligence? And Thor thought it was _safe_ there? Odin’s son was even more moronic than she had realised. But listening in, Lorelei found a plan beginning to form in her devious mind - because Thor spoke of this being as _male_. If she could enthrall him - or defeat him and take the Mindstone for herself - well, that would be power infinite beyond belief! No longer would she be limited to controlling only males. Her eyes gleamed with avarice as she turned and stole quietly back to Loki’s chambers.

_Queen Consort of Asgard? Pah. A paltry ambition_ , she thought. _I’m going to rule the Nine Realms alone. Empress Lorelei has a pretty ring to it._

Loki returned to his chambers not long after, to find Lorelei dressed in clothes that would allow her to pass unnoticed on Earth - well, as unnoticed as someone with her beauty could, Loki thought, allowing himself one last admiring glance.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I am,” Lorelei lifted the satchel he had given her, filled with identity documents and the strange paper money Midgardians used. Loki had advised her to try to pass unnoticed, not to attract the attention of SHIELD or especially the Avengers.

_Little does he know_ , she thought, giving Loki a smile full of promise as she bade him hurry to dispatch Thor quickly so that she could return to his side, _that next time I see him he will be begging on his knees to serve me._

Stumbling as she made her way along the narrow, rocky passage that Loki had promised would lead her through to Midgard, Lorelei thought venomously of those who had thwarted her the last time she visited that miserable, backwards Realm. At least this time, Sif would not be sent to chase her down. There was no hated collar within reach of those who would oppose her - no collar at all, since Loki had destroyed it.

“Not this time,” she murmured, “I underestimated them, perhaps. This time, I will take my time. Lurk in the shadows, gather an army.” A thoughtful smile touched her full lips. “There was one who served me well, last time. Perhaps I shall seek him out first. At the least, I shall be well serviced while I assemble my forces.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Um, sir?”

Ward looked up from the plans he was poring over with Rollins, eyes narrowing. “I said that we weren’t to be disturbed.”

“Yes, sir, but, um…” the HYDRA soldier looked terrified, “there’s - a _lady_ here to see you.” His tone was oddly worshipful.

_Skye_ , was Ward’s first thought, but he pushed it aside angrily. She would never come to him. Not of her own free will, she’d made that all too clear. He would have to _take_ what he wanted. The only problem was, he had no idea how… his jaw dropped as Lorelei entered the room.

“You!”

“Hello, darling,” she said, her voice honey-smooth, seductive. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

_She had to touch me last time_ … but his feet were already moving, carrying him towards her against his will, until he was towering over her.

“Introduce me to your friends, Grant,” a slender hand caressed his wrist. “I’m so interested to hear about what you’ve been up to since last we were together.”

“Who the fuck is this, Ward?” Rollins said, but there was no heat in his words, and he was staring lustfully at Lorelei. Even the Asset, who’d been standing still and silent in the corner of the room, was looking at her.

“Well,” Lorelei purred, moving away from Ward and approaching Rollins, “aren’t _you_ a big strong boy.” She straddled his lap in one swift move, her hands landing on his cheeks, her mouth pressing against his.

When she pulled back, Rollins stared up at her with worshipful eyes. “Mistress,” he whispered.

“Very good.” Lorelei patted his cheek fondly before moving across to face the Winter Soldier. “What do we have here?” she said curiously. He flinched back as she reached to touch his arm, and she stared blatantly as the prosthetic whirred and shifted. “How intriguing. A mechanical man.”

“No, just a mechanical arm. We call it a prosthetic,” Ward explained quickly, not wanting her to keep mistaken assumptions.

“Really?” She studied the Soldier with new eyes. “So there’s a man under there?” Her magic reached for his mind, startled to see the chaos within. She quickly saw the damage done by repeated attempts to remove or alter his memories. “Oh, no, this won’t do at all!” She reached out to touch him, and he froze as her hand settled on his neck. The tendrils of her magic wound into his mind, correcting the damage so that her warrior would be whole again - and _hers_.

“Mistress,” he whispered as she drew away. She smiled in satisfaction.

“Yes,” she agreed. She turned her attention back to Ward. “I am glad to see that you have begun to follow the instructions I left for you.”

Ward’s brow furrowed. “Instructions…” he said slowly. “I do not understand, Mistress.”

“Well, I could not allow you to be aware of them, of course,” Lorelei smirked. “You might have resisted me. Who, after all, _desires_ to destroy their own chance at happiness?”

Rollins was looking at Ward in confusion. Ward passed a hand over his brow, feeling a pain there - but Lorelei brushed her fingers against his and the pain passed.

“I’m glad you’re happy with what I’ve done so far, Mistress,” he gazed at her with devoted eyes. She could still sense his obsession with the young woman he had once trained, but again her power was stronger than his human emotion. “Only tell me what I can do for you now.”

“There’s my good little pet,” Lorelei said fondly, looking back at the Soldier, moving over to take his hand and draw him closer to the other two. He followed unresistingly as she gazed up into his eyes and smiled thoughtfully. Stroked his cheek lightly, delving deep into his mind as she did so before her smile widened and she spoke again.

“So. I have heard of a team of men with powers. I wish for them to join my army.”

"The Avengers?" Ward said. "Mistress, Thor is with them..."

"Not any more. He has returned to Asgard, and is well out of our way," she corrected him airily, confident that Loki would keep Thor busy. She turned away from the Soldier, surveyed the room. Walked over to the table and flicked through the plans lying there. "Pointless," she dismissed them with a wave of her hand. "Use him."

"Him?" Ward and Rollins both looked at the Asset. "How?"

Lorelei smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve stared at Sam, wide-eyed. "They’re sure it’s Bucky?”

“My informant texted me a photo.” Sam handed his phone over. Steve stared at the picture of a long-haired man lying asleep on a couch. It was unmistakably Bucky.

“In Brooklyn?”

Sam grinned happily. “You said it might happen. That as his programming started to break down, he’d go back, look for something familiar. My informant found him in an alley. In pretty bad physical shape, but all things considered - he figured that calling an ambulance or taking him to a hospital might not be the best idea. His girlfriend convinced Bucky that they were just good Samaritans and they’ve got him in their apartment. He ate a big meal and fell asleep.”

“My God,” Steve shook his head, stunned. “Well, come on. What are we waiting for?”

“Good thing the meetings with SHIELD are finished, huh?” Sam had to jog to keep up with Steve as he headed for the parking garage. Steve hesitated at his motorbike, but continued on to the SUV.

“Yes. And sorry, this is going to keep you from your soulmate a little longer.”

Sam shrugged. “Rumlow and Daisy have to break the news to him anyway. It’ll be a few days at least until I get to meet him. Let’s get Barnes home where he belongs, and then I won’t have anything to distract me from my soulmate.”

That made Steve laugh as he slid into the driver’s seat. “I shall pretend I have no idea what you mean.” He glanced at Sam with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“That’s right, you just keep right on pretending you’re still a virgin from the 1940’s,” Sam rolled his eyes and snorted. “Does anyone fall for that?”

“Only Stark.” Steve ruminated for a moment. “And the entire American press corps.”

They were cheerful all the way into the city, talking and laughing. Sam could tell Steve was nervous but hopeful. They parked up and headed to the apartment building where Sam’s informant lived.

“Come on up,” they were told when they buzzed the doorbell, and the door swung open.

Steve took the stairs three at a time. Sam jogged up a little slower, calling to Steve to wait for him at the top. “Fucking super-soldiers,” he groused under his breath. “Good thing I don’t skip leg day!”

“Which apartment?” Steve asked, not giving Sam time to catch his breath. He caught a glare for that, and Sam insisting on going first, because;

“My informant doesn’t know you. And your lily-white face in his peephole is gonna make him think _cops_ , ya dig?”

“Sam, this is Brooklyn, and 21st century Brooklyn isn’t exactly a ghetto,” Steve gestured wryly around the handsome building.

“Dude’s still black.” Sam gave him a wry glance, stopped walking and knocked on a door. “Plus. We got a secret password.”

“You’re going overboard on this secret agent thing. Been spending too much time with Rumlow and Romanoff,” Steve sniped. That earned him an elbow in the ribs.

At least Sam’s informant actually was black. A guy with a slightly glazed look to his eyes, which Steve wondered if it might be due to drugs. Maybe that was _why_ he was an informant. Well, if Bucky was here frankly Steve could care less.

It _was_ Bucky. Fast asleep, on the guy’s couch. Wearing ratty sweats that looked as though he’d been sleeping on the street for a while - but he was reasonably well-fed looking and clean-shaven. Steve frowned, taking a step closer.

Lorelei stepped in from the next room, her magic already at work. “Hello, gentlemen,” she purred confidently.

“Wait, who the hell are you?” Sam asked, but she only stepped closer and brushed his hand with hers.

“I’m Lorelei, of course,” she replied. Steve turned to look at them, but Sam had already relaxed under her spell.

“Of course,” he agreed in a low voice.

“Sam?” Steve stepped away from Bucky, but Bucky’s hand shot out and grabbed Steve’s wrist. “Bucky, what?”

“It’s alright, warrior,” Lorelei purred as she sauntered over to Steve. She could see that he wanted to pull away but didn’t want to risk harming his friend. “Everything is alright, now.” She stepped up to him and caught his free hand in hers. She watched his eyes glaze over and leaned up to take his lips in a kiss. He wasn’t quite as handsome as her Thor, but he was golden haired and blue-eyed as any Aesir and she couldn’t help but find him attractive. “Everything is alright, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Steve replied with a look of devotion in his eyes.

Oh, yes, she would be _well_ satisfied while on Midgard.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **OK, so Lorelei is creeping BOTH of us out. We’re NOT going to write her nonconsensual shenanigans with all her superslaves, definitely not, because YUCK (nonconsensual sex can never be hot, in our opinions), so please don’t ask. I’m afraid you’ll just have to take it as implied if that’s how you want to see it.**
> 
>  


	61. No Obvious Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip gets worried.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/203-2_zps4xiu75vh.jpg.html)

“Yeah, girl,” Trip said cheerfully into the phone. “They really did find him. He’s still not himself, though.” Distracted as Wanda walked into the room and bent over, peering into the fridge, he missed what Daisy said next. “What? Say what? Oh, Ward and Rollins. No, Sam says there’s no sign of those two.”

“Damn,” Brock said. He was in on the call as well. “Oh well. I guess we keep looking. But it’s really good news they found Barnes.”

“I’ll say. Sam says he hadn’t realised how miserable Steve really was, before.” Trip’s eyes were glued to Wanda’s hips as she sashayed across the room, taking a long drink from the soda she’d picked out before she turned to give him a wink. _Minx_ , he thought hard at her, watching her lips curve up in a smirk. _I’m trying to focus._ He realised he’d missed something else Brock had said.

“Barnes can’t come here yet,” he tried to cover for his inattention by giving extra information. “Sam says he’s real jumpy ‘round women. Romanoff looked dark and muttered somethin’ about the Red Room. Barton and Pietro have gone to help, they left yesterday - Barton’s got experience with brainwashed Soviet assassins, after all, and Pietro knows exactly what HYDRA lies the bastards will have filled Barnes’ poor head with.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to get Wanda to help him?” Daisy asked curiously. “Or wouldn’t her abilities help?”

“She thinks she could actually, but Sam says Barnes freaks at the very sight of women. They’ve got him holed up somewhere secluded, won’t even talk about it.”

“Must be quiet there with all of them away,” Daisy said teasingly. “Who’s left, you, Wanda, Vision and Rhodey? And the Widow, of course.”

“Actually,” Trip said, “I ain’t seen Rhodey in a couple days. Where’s he gone, baby, you know?” he asked Wanda.

“Some thing with the Air Force,” Wanda replied with a vague shrug.

“Yeah, some work thing. Dunno. It’s OK. I don’t mind the quiet.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t send for you, actually,” Brock said thoughtfully. “Didn’t you once say that everyone says you’re the living image of your grandfather? That might have helped to jog Barnes’ memory.”

“Yeah, Cap nearly fell over when we first met,” Trip chuckled at the memory. “I dunno, guys, but if we can’t trust Cap to do what’s right by Barnes, then who _can_ we trust?”

“Very true,” Daisy agreed with a laugh. “It’s quiet around here, too. May and Andrew came back from holiday and took off again straight away. Coulson’s assigned them to Afterlife.”

“Oh yeah?” Trip sat up a little straighter. “The Inhuman city? I thought it was abandoned?”

“Not so much a city as a small community,” Brock corrected. “Yes, it was evacuated before the battle on the _Iliad_ and everyone scattered, but Lincoln and Alisha know how to start reaching out to those who they think might be willing to work with SHIELD. And Coulson thinks that it’s probably a good place, being isolated as it is, and well-protected if SHIELD get more Inhuman allies, to store some of the alien artifacts that just shouldn’t be messed with. Like that Kree Monolith thing, for example. And the Terrigen crystals, since Inhumans are the only ones who can handle them safely.”

“Mack’s gone with them to look at how we can create some kind of secure vault under the mountain,” Daisy put in. “And to stay close to Alisha, of course.”

Trip could hear the laughter in her voice. “Don’t tease Rums now,” he admonished laughingly. “He’s still gettin’ used to having a sister. I know how protective Pietro is of Wanda.”

“Yeah, bet you’re not at all sorry he’s off with all the other men,” Daisy giggled.

“Hey, Vision’s still here, I’m not totally outnumbered!”

“ _Is_ Vision male?” Daisy asked curiously. “I know you all use the male pronouns and he looks male, but… technically?”

“Come on, girl, I ain’t game to try and find out!”

The call ended on a good deal of laughter, and Wanda immediately came over to Trip and slid into his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck. “I, too, am quite glad that my brother is busy elsewhere,” she murmured. “Since it ensures that we will not, for once, be interrupted.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, Trip sat in the office he used trying to decide why something didn’t seem right. He hadn’t mentioned it to anybody yet, but he thought it seemed very strange that more than half the Avengers were gone, and some of them had been gone for more than two weeks. Finally he gave up and called Romanoff.

“What’s up?” she asked as she let herself into his office a few minutes later.

“Not sure,” Trip answered. He passed her over the transcripts of the various check-in calls he or other staff had taken from the various members of the Avengers team. “Something’s not quite right, but damned if I can tell what. It’s just bothering me.”

“What, feeling unprotected?” she teased as she picked up the transcripts.

“With you, Vision and Wanda at hand if I can’t handle something myself? Not a chance,” he answered with a grin, and she smiled at his prompt response. “I just think it’s weird that they’ve been gone so long. I mean, everything _sounds_ normal. And I’ve seen what HYDRA programming can do, so I’m not surprised that it’s taking a long time to fix. But if Barnes was so jumpy around women, how did he handle wandering around Brooklyn for so long? I thought his programming was already breaking down, so how did it get so bad?”

Natasha frowned slightly. “Well, if programming is breaking down on its own he could be going through phases where sometimes things trigger and sometimes they don’t.” She kept skimming the reports. “But I think you’re right. These are essentially the same reports each check-in. Something should have changed by now.”

“What do you think is happening?”

“I honestly don’t know,” she answered, her eyes dark and cold as she analyzed the situation. “Something is going on, and it would seem to be a situation where for whatever reason they don’t want women around. That in itself is strange, because Cap’s never been sexist and Barton knows I’d kick his ass if he ever tried it.”

Tapping her finger thoughtfully on the stack of transcripts, she said “Has Pietro spoken to Wanda?”

“I - don’t know?” Trip admitted. Tapped a few keys. “No. He hasn’t called in at all.”

“How deep does their link run? Could she perhaps check in on him mentally, without needing a phone call?”

They looked at each other for a moment in silence, and then Trip shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”

When Wanda joined them, she looked at Trip curiously upon realizing that he wasn’t alone. “Something is wrong?”

“Maybe,” Trip answered, holding his arm out to her. “Can you reach your brother mentally from this far away?”

“I have not spoken to him since he left…” she began, and then her eyes went wide as realization dawned. “You believe something has happened.”

They didn’t have to tell her. Settling herself in a chair, Wanda bent forward, placed her forefingers against her temples, and began to breathe slow and deep, her eyes glowing red.

“I cannot reach him,” she said at last. “His mind is there, but - hidden, as though behind a veil.”

“What about the others?” Natasha asked intently. “Steve, Clint?”

“I am sorry,” Wanda shook her head despairingly. “Not at this distance. Something is very wrong with Pietro, though, and I cannot understand what. I could not do this, this is - something I have never seen.”

“What do we do now?” Trip asked Natasha, who was staring unblinkingly out of the window, her body quite still.

“Get Vision,” she said without looking around. “Their phones. Let’s see if we can switch the phones’ cameras on, or microphones - something.”

Vision reported nothing but darkness and silence, and Natasha concluded that the phones were probably locked in a box somewhere. Vision promptly pinpointed the ‘somewhere’ and Trip looked at Natasha. They were all deferring to her authority, he realised, but then she _was_ the only ‘original’ Avenger on-site.

“Stark?” Vision suggested tentatively.

“No,” Natasha responded after thinking about it for a minute. “Not yet. He’s in the South Pacific somewhere anyway, it would take him a while to get back here. I don’t… I can’t put all the pieces together, yet.” She looked puzzled, which was an entirely new expression for her, as far as Trip knew.

“Rumlow?” he suggested. Meaning _SHIELD_ , of course, but Natasha still tensed up whenever SHIELD was mentioned.

“Fine,” Natasha acquiesced after a moment. While she didn’t really want to have to call in outside help, she knew that her access to SHIELD reports had been restricted by HYDRA if not by Fury, and that perhaps Rumlow would have a better guess about what they were up against.

Trip grabbed his phone, dialed Rumlow and put the call on speaker.

“Rumlow,” was the brusque answer to the call.

“Hey, man, it’s Trip. I’ve got you on speaker with as much of the team as is here right now.”

“Alright. What’s up?”

“We have had two groups go out in the past few weeks; they’ve been reporting in regularly, but the messages have been repetitively similar.”

“That is concerning.” Brock paused for a moment. “Do they have someone with them capable of tapping your phones?”

“Unknown,” Natasha broke in, getting where Rumlow was going with his question.

“Let me get Daisy, then, and we’ll check security before calling back.”

“Make it quick, Rumlow,” Natasha ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a smirk audible in his tone before hanging up.

Five minutes later, Trip’s laptop pinged an alert. It was Daisy.

“Hey, girl. Rums,” he greeted them as the call connected. He turned the screen so that everyone could see, and the camera would pick up most of the room.

“I’ve got this thing running through several dozen IPs and every security protocol I can come up with,” she said without preamble. “So, what’s going on?”

“Two and a half weeks ago, Rogers and Wilson responded to a call from one of Wilson’s contacts that Barnes had been found. When they got there, they found that his programming had continued breaking down, but badly. He couldn’t deal with large groups of people, and he particularly freaked out if there were women around,” Trip began to explain. He saw Rumlow and Daisy nod.

“I offered to try to help,” Wanda added over his shoulder. “But they did not want me near him, said they didn’t want him to panic.”

“Couldn’t they just tranq him long enough for you to get him over that and then bring him in?” Brock’s tone conveyed his surprise.

“Cap’s probably babying his buddy,” Trip answered with a shake of his head. “They’ve been calling to report in regularly, mostly messages that the situation is unchanged. One day last week, Barton and Pietro went to assist. Stark is still MIA and Rhodes got called away on military business. So it’s just the four of us here.”

“So why call us?” Daisy asked.

“Because Barton has also called in with similar messages to Cap, Pietro hasn’t called in at all - not even to talk to Wanda - and now Wanda can’t reach his mind. Vision tried to connect to their phones, and they appear to be locked in a security box. All of them. Rhodey’s too, in the same location as the others.”

“Pietro’s mind is… shrouded. Veiled,” Wanda’s tone was deeply worried, “and I cannot contact him. This has never happened before.”

“And they don’t want women around?” Daisy asked, leaning forward with an intent expression. “Well, shit.” She turned away from the video call and picked up her cell phone. “Fitz? Can you check the satellite feeds for the past few weeks? Yeah. Look for signs of bifrost activity. Yep. Thanks.”

“Bifrost activity? You think this is Asgardian?” Natasha asked when Daisy returned to the screen.

“We had an… encounter… about a year and a half ago. An Asgardian criminal who could enchant men, dominating their minds and making them devoted to her.” Daisy sighed. “I was only peripherally involved, because I was still recovering from injuries taken on a prior mission.” She tightened her lips and her hand went to her stomach, and Trip immediately understood.

“You think she might be back?” Trip asked, diverting questions away from her injury.

“I would hope not. Lady Sif seemed pretty adamant that she would be dealt with in Asgard when we helped recover her. But…” Daisy shrugged. “Who knows.” Daisy’s phone beeped, and she pulled it out. “The only signs of bifrost activity that Fitz can track down in the past several weeks were apparently just outside of your facility or in the middle of New York City.”

“Thor coming and going,” Vision responded. “I have records of his arrivals and departures, so I believe we can rule those out. Are there any records that do not coincide with this data?” He asked, transmitting the dates and times of Thor’s travels along the secure line.

Daisy double checked the data with Fitz and then shook her head. “No. So not Asgardian, unless they have another way to get here.”

“Is that possible?” Vision asked.

“Given what powers we’ve seen from various encounters… I wouldn’t assume it’s not,” she replied with a shrug.

“We don’t know that they can’t or that they haven’t. Just that the way we usually get Asgardian visitors is by bifrost,” Brock added. “But they also all know that the bifrost doesn’t allow for a subtle arrival. That doesn’t seem to bother Thor or the other warriors we’ve encountered. But I have to assume that there are others among them who would prefer something… quieter.” He and Natasha shared a glance and both nodded.

“I would,” Natasha confirmed aloud.

“Do you need us to get back there? Even if it’s not an Asgardian issue, the fact that they seem to be working hard to keep women away would indicate that women are a problem for whatever reason. We’re light on female agents ourselves, at the moment, but I can pull together a few people and make some calls in case we need more backup.”

Natasha hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “We don’t know what we’re up against. Can you send us mission reports from your Asgardian encounter, just in case?”

“We’ll ask,” Brock replied when Daisy hesitated. “Best I can offer at the moment.”

“Good enough. We’ll see you soon, then?” Trip said before anyone else could make Daisy more uncomfortable.

“As soon as we can,” Brock agreed before nodding to Daisy, who ended the call and wiped all traces of it happening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brock pulled Daisy into his arms as soon as she was done erasing the call data. “It might not be as bad as they think,” he said softly, his mind reaching out to soothe hers automatically.

“I’m alright,” she assured him softly. “That was… not a good time, is all. I’ll be fine. I really hope it’s something else, though. If Lorelei is back, she’ll know everything about us and our possible team. Anything we told Cap and Falcon, they’d tell her in a heartbeat if they thought it would help her. That’s how her magic works.”

“Then it’s a good thing we didn’t tell them much about the other Inhumans. Let’s go see Coulson. We might need the Afterlife group back here; Alisha especially could be useful if we’re facing a large group of people.”

“Too right,” Daisy grinned at that before getting up and heading for the door. Before she got there, though, her computer pinged, and she turned back to it, her brow furrowing. “What the…” Eyes widening, she rushed back to her desk. The call was reconnecting, IP lines retracing themselves - _in reverse_. “That’s not possible!”

“Vision, maybe?” Brock said as they both leant over the screen. “Don’t break the connection…”

It was Natasha’s face that appeared on the screen. “No time for details,” she said in a clipped tone, her eyes dark. “We’re under attack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. Attack incoming! We did warn you that things were going to heat up...


	62. Cognitive Recalibration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha calls in help from SHIELD.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/203-6_zpsje4tkogc.jpg.html)

“We’re under attack.”

Daisy and Brock exchanged a glance, then both nodded sharply. Daisy returned to the computer as Brock left the room. “Tell me everything you can,” Daisy began, then shook her head. “Brock’s already scrambling our people. Have Vision use this same trail to tap my phone; I’ll ping you from it briefly. Then he can keep us updated in real time while we’re en route.”

“On it,” Natasha said. “Be fast. Vision?”

“Connecting now,” Skye heard just before the computers disconnected again. Her phone rang a second later and she answered it as she ran down the hall to get her gear.

“Agent Johnson,” she said into the phone.

“This is Vision, Agent. I’m beginning transfer of the information as requested.”

“Great, thank you. We’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

Bobbi, two days out of her wheelchair, was in the women’s locker room, dragging on tactical gear.

“No!” Daisy snapped at her, grabbing her own things quickly and making sure there was a box of ICERs she could take with as well. “You can’t, Bobbi.”

“If it’s Lorelei, you’re going to need every woman you’ve got,” Bobbi said grimly, “and with May and Alisha in Tibet, you and me are it for the fighting force.”

“Not quite,” a steady voice came behind them, and they both turned to see Jemma striding in. She stopped at her locker and yanked out a tac vest. “That bitch tore us apart last time. This time she’s gonna get what she’s got coming.”

Bobbi and Daisy both stared at her in open-mouthed shock as she yanked a rifle from the rack on the wall, slung the strap across her body and started grabbing magazines.

Daisy’s phone pinged, and she shook her head, shaking off her momentary stupor as the three of them hurried to the hangar, Jemma with a supporting arm around Bobbi’s waist and Daisy with the crate of ICERs.

“I’ll secure you a knee brace when we’re on the quinjet,” Jemma muttered to Bobbi, who nodded in thanks.

Hunter, Coulson and Fitz were already strapped in, Brock in the pilot’s seat. Coulson had two other ready teams in quinjets ready to go as well, and they all took off at the same time as Daisy scanned the data dump Vision had sent her.

“Someone needs to teach Vision that we can’t all process huge amounts of data like he can…” she muttered, sorting rapidly.

“Oh my God, it’s HYDRA,” Bobbi, peering over Daisy’s shoulder as Jemma secured a brace on her knee, gasped. She pointed a shaking finger at the screen. “Those two. I know those two. They’re HYDRA.”

“Big screen please, Skye,” Coulson said.

She obeyed the order immediately, and Bobbi pointed out the two men she’d recognised, advancing across the grounds of the Avengers Facility with weapons in hand. There were a lot of men; Vision had visual confirmation of thirty-seven, though obviously knowing about him they’d divested themselves of electronic equipment. It limited their tactical flexibility but nullified Vision’s advantage.

There was a ping of new data, and Daisy hastily sorted, filtered - and swore. “Sir, it _has_ to be Lorelei, or someone with similar powers.” She threw another image up on the screen. “I can’t imagine why else War Machine and Falcon would be providing aerial cover for the attack.”

“She’s co-opted the _Avengers_ ,” Hunter said with a kind of horrified fascination. “Fuck me, we’re all gonna die.”

“Thank you for that positive contribution, Agent Hunter!” Coulson said sharply. “Fitz, no sign of bifrost activity yet?”

“No, sir. I’ve been back to when Lady Sif was here, and there’s nothing but the data that corresponds with Thor’s arrivals and departures.”

“I guess that means Sif isn’t coming this time,” Coulson said grimly. “And Thor’s on Asgard. Looks like us Earthlings are in this on our own.”

Daisy could feel Brock’s mounting fear for her as he piloted the plane.

_I’m more worried about you_ , she sent to him silently. _Lorelei likes to co-opt powerful men. If she took you away from me…_

_It’ll never happen. I won’t allow it,_ he promised her.

_I’m not sure you can prevent it,_ she answered with a sigh. _Don’t worry about me. I doubt she’ll even recognize me. I was in the med pod the last time she was here._ She didn’t say that shortly thereafter was when Ward started really creeping her out with his stalkerish attitude, but she didn’t really think she needed to.

“Guess that means that I’ll take point with Black Widow when we arrive,” Daisy replied to Coulson. “ICERS on everybody, particularly all the men, just in case. I don’t know how well they’ll work on Lorelei, but you should be able to take down most of the men fighting with them. We don’t want collateral damage among people who would normally be our allies.”

“Remember that for some people, Lorelei had to get close enough to actually touch in order for her magic to work,” Jemma spoke up as she finished with Bobbi and turned her attention to the screen. “She has some limitations at a distance with a particularly strong-willed individual. If you can avoid it, do _not_ let her close to you.”

“Fitz, can you work on duplicating the control collar Lady Sif had last time?” Coulson asked.

“Yeah, maybe. If they have the right components in the facility’s labs,” Fitz replied.

“Vision, can we get Agent Fitz access to the labs when we arrive?” Skye asked distractedly as she sifted through the data incoming continually as the Avengers engaged their attackers.

“Of course, Agent Johnson,” Vision responded immediately. “I have sent a message to the security system authorizing it via emergency override.”

“Thank you.” Daisy turned to look at Coulson. “Can we send a call to May at Afterlife? Get her and Alisha and anyone else who might be useful on a quinjet?”

“It’ll still take them hours to get here, even if they left right this second. They’re halfway around the world.”

“We know, but if they haven’t committed to an all-or-nothing attack, we might need the reinforcements,” Brock chimed in. “And if Lorelei is here and has had the Avengers in her thrall for two weeks or more, we could need Andrew as well. When it’s all over.”

Coulson and Fitz shuddered at the very idea, Fitz from memory and Coulson from the thought of widespread mental trauma. “I’ll get in touch with them now. Just in case.”

“Five minutes out,” Brock said tersely a couple of minutes later, but only a few seconds after that, the quinjet suddenly tremored violently and all the electronics blipped off for a few seconds before coming back on. Daisy reached for Brock, could feel him raging silently as he fought the jet’s nonresponsive controls until it suddenly jerked and the engines refired.

“EMP?” Fitz said, tapping at his screen to bring it back to life. “Who set it off?”

“I did,” Vision’s calm voice said suddenly in their comms. “Stark had prevented any external access to the software controlling both War Machine’s armour and Falcon’s wingpack. It was the only way to bring them to ground so that you can land safely. I have also disabled all non-SHIELD electronic equipment within a five-mile radius.”

“Well hopefully that’ll keep this mess off the telly, at least,” Hunter muttered wryly.

“What’s happening there, Vision?” Phil asked coolly.

“I am tapping you into my visual stream now. All other external cameras in the facility have already been disabled. Hawkeye knew all their locations.”

“Don’t get too close, Rumlow!” Bobbi warned quickly. “They might not be able to use laser sights and rocket launchers, but Hawkeye’s quite capable of shooting us down without one. A thousand yards, at least.”

“We can provide aerial cover,” Brock argued, flipping the cap back on the weapons control stick.

“Agent Morse is correct, Agent Rumlow,” Vision responded. He sounded completely unruffled, though they could see his visual feed swooping and diving around crazily on the screen. “Here are Hawkeye’s current co-ordinates.”

“One pass, Rumlow, at the southern edge,” Coulson decided after a moment of studying the tactical plan Vision had just flipped to them. “Take out that group of soldiers, and then land us.”

“On it,” Brock replied shortly, but after a couple of seconds Bobbi unclipped her harness and headed for the cockpit, limping but determined.

“Let me,” she strapped into the co-pilot’s seat, reached for the weapons controls. “You concentrate on the fancy flying. That EMP probably won’t keep War Machine grounded for long, not if I know Stark tech…”

The jet shuddered as the machine guns activated. Daisy bowed her head, trying not to think about the men and probably women dying down there. Yes, they were HYDRA - she _hoped_ they were all HYDRA, anyway - but they still wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Lorelei’s vicious meddling.

“Why _is_ she here?” Daisy said slowly aloud, more to herself than anyone else.

“She wants to rule the world, she made that pretty clear last time,” Coulson said bitterly.

“No, I know that - I meant, why is she _here_?”

Everyone was staring at her, and she could feel Brock’s attention, even though he was concentrating on flying.

“She’s already got all the male Avengers. Why bother attacking the facility? She can’t co-opt Romanoff or Wanda.”

“Vision,” Jemma suddenly realised where Daisy was leading. “She’s after Vision.”

“The Mindstone,” Fitz, Jemma and Daisy all said in unison.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hunter said into the brief silence.

“ _Thank you_ , Hunter. Yes, Skye, I think you’re right. Did you pick that up, Vision?” Coulson asked.

“I did. I believe your logical extrapolation may be correct, as the attacking forces appear to be attempting to separate and isolate me from my allies.”

“Oh, that’s _so_ not happening,” Daisy said, her tone firm. “I wonder…” _Would you like to try target practice while flying?_ she asked Brock silently before saying anything aloud.

_What did you have in mind, baby?_

_You don’t need your hands to zap things with your eyes, and Vision doesn’t really have any distance weapons without his tech access…_ When he didn’t answer, she elaborated. _Hitch a ride with Vision and fly around the battlefield zapping bad guys. That way neither of you gets caught by Lorelei alone, and more people get dealt with faster._

She felt his incredulity, and then _You do have some good ideas, baby._ “We’re landing,” his crisp voice said aloud in the comms. “Be ready. Area is not secure. We may take fire…”

The jet shivered slightly with the impact of bullets and then harder as Bobbi returned fire with the machine gun. She stopped suddenly.

“I see Quicksilver. At least - I think I see him. Saw him. Fuck me, that was fast!”

“They know we don’t want to hurt them,” Daisy said to Coulson, who grimaced.

“And yet Lorelei will most certainly have ordered them to hurt _us_.”

The ramp was lowering, Hunter snarling at them to stay back as he raced out first, his rifle spitting bullets at the attacking force. Brock went dashing past even as Daisy unclipped her harness, Bobbi rapidly limping after him, assault rifle in her hands.

“Sir!” Fitz shouted, and Phil, on his way to the ramp, turned to look.

Vision’s visual feed was still up on the screen. He was grappling with War Machine, the picture jerking briefly as both flyers hit the ground. Captain America and the Winter Soldier suddenly came into view, both of them hurling themselves onto Vision to hold him down.

“Oh, shit,” Phil whispered, turning pale. He, Jemma and Fitz stood staring at the screen as the tactical agents raced outside and spread out, securing the area around the quinjet.

A face hove into Vision’s view, a stunning female face with a thick mane of rippling red-gold hair around it like a halo. Lorelei smiled.

“What a strange, pretty creature you are. You have something I want, Vision.”

“And what might that be?” Vision inquired, playing for time as he struggled against the super-soldiers pinning him down.

With a sweetly seductive smirk on her face, Lorelei reached out to touch Vision’s face. He stilled under her touch, eyes on her face though his expression remained neutral. “The Mindstone, of course,” she murmured.

“You _will_ serve the Mistress,” Steve said, his eyes fanatic. “The Empress.”

“Yes,” Vision said slowly. “Yes, I will. Mistress.”

Lorelei smiled, smug and triumphant. “Let him up,” she ordered.

Vision smiled pleasantly at Lorelei as he got to his feet. She stepped closer to him, well pleased. “Now, you will help us defeat these _women_ who think to stop me.”

“I think not,” Vision replied, his tone scathing as he swung his arm and backhanded Lorelei away from him with his full power. She went flying, screaming in pain and fury. Before Steve or Bucky could get a hand on him again, Vision rose straight up into the air and assessed the state of his newly arrived allies.

Daisy stood with both hands out, vibrations rippling from her hands as she mowed down swathes of HYDRA soldiers. Rumlow was at her back, scorching beams from his eyes ripping huge gaps in the enemy ranks. Hunter and Bobbi crouched at their feet, picking off anyone organised enough to attempt return fire.

And sprinting towards them, Trip and Natasha escorting her, both with guns in either hand, was Wanda.

Vision smiled and set off another EMP blast as War Machine and Falcon both started to take off again.

“Wanda, if you can clear their minds, I hope it works fast!” Daisy exclaimed, sending another wave of power towards the enemy. She hit the ground beneath Falcon, knocking him off his feet as he crash-landed.

“I can. I need to touch them, but I did break her control on some of the HYDRA soldiers. They’re still HYDRA, though. They continued the attack.”

“We need to get to the Avengers,” Phil shouted, running up behind them with Jemma and Fitz.

“Pietro,” Natasha said quickly. “If we can get him, he can knock anyone down long enough for us to get Wanda to them.”

“How the hell do we get him? We can’t even _see_ him!” Hunter snapped back, quickly loading another magazine into his assault rifle.

“Get him into the area, and I’ll see what I can do,” Daisy volunteered. “I don’t think he can move faster than my vibrations; maybe I can knock him off his feet long enough for Wanda to do her thing!”

“Good idea,” Coulson agreed. “Everyone keep your eyes open; I’d imagine we’re the biggest targets. Especially with Wanda here.”

A blur of motion caught Bobbi’s eye and she called it out. “Three o’clock, heading counter-clockwise!” Daisy was already tracking him, even as the words registered. Trying to anticipate Quicksilver’s target was difficult, but his trajectory was less so.

“Shit, I think he’s after Wanda!” Brock yelled in warning. Wanda’s eyes went wide, but Daisy was equally swift. She sent out a wave of vibration in Pietro’s direction and he lost his footing as the ground shook beneath him. He tumbled, rolling a few times as momentum carried him along. He was only a few feet from Wanda when he stopped, and she quickly covered the distance between them.

“Pietro, you must stop this!” Wanda said as she caught his hand in hers, reaching into his mind with her power. A red glow surrounded the twins’ linked hands, and Pietro jerked, shaking his head.

“W-Wanda?”

“ _Incoming!_ ” Hunter screamed, and they all flung themselves flat as Captain America’s shield came hissing through the air like a giant metal frisbee.

An instant later it went flying back the other way, flung by Vision as he swooped in to land behind them.

“Wanda,” tears formed in Pietro’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, I…”

“It doesn’t matter, we have to stop them!” Wanda jerked on his hand, dragging him to his feet. “She’s after the Mindstone!”

“Alright, we need to divide them into groups that Wanda can deal with,” Brock began issuing orders. “We really need to get the rest of the Avengers back on the right side, and quickly. Start with Cap, he’s grounded. Trip, you’re with Wanda; cover her and she’ll keep your mind your own.”

“Sir,” Trip said, acknowledging his tactical authority. Not that he would have left Wanda’s side anyway, but still - orders were orders, and Rumlow had more tactical experience than any of them.

“Romanoff, can you keep Barnes busy until we can get to him?” Brock asked quickly. “With his state of mind before all this, I’m not sure he’ll be enough in his right mind when her spell is broken to really be of use, but we can’t leave him at loose ends, either.”

“I think so.”

“Try. Vision, we’re going to need you to keep the flyers busy once they get back on-line. But Daisy suggested I hitch a ride with you; provide aerial cover with my power while you do the fancy flying?”

“I believe that is an acceptable course of action,” Vision agreed.

“Everyone else, stay in groups and _watch your back_. Lorelei could be anywhere at the moment, and we don’t need to lose any more team members than we already have!”

It was at that moment that Hunter screamed with pain.

“Fuck!” Bobbi wheeled around and returned fire. Jemma went to her knees beside Hunter, staring in horror at the arrow sticking through his left hand.

“Let’s not forget about Hawkeye, he’s an Avenger for a bloody good reason!” Hunter gasped before falling over in a dead faint.

“Pietro!” was all Wanda said, and Quicksilver was gone in a blur of blue. He was back within seconds, Barton’s limp body slung over his shoulder.

“Good,” Wanda knelt beside Barton as Pietro dropped him, her fingers glowing red as he pressed them to his cheek. His eyes blinked open, stared uncomprehendingly at her.

“Oh, fucking no, I fucking _hate_ being mind controlled!”

“Count yourself lucky you didn’t need _my_ brand of cognitive recalibration again!” Natasha snapped at him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Poor Clint. But Natasha’s right - at least this time they didn’t have to brawl to get his mind back!**


	63. We're Going To TALK Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIELD and the Avengers go into battle - against each other.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumlow_zps790ae411.jpg.html)

They formed up quickly. Brock seared the arrow in Hunter’s hand in half so Simmons could yank it out - Barton muttered a sheepish “sorry” which Hunter accepted with a pained nod. Jemma was about to bandage the hand when Hunter shook his head.

“Nup. Wouldn’t be able to use it. Rumlow, you cauterise it.”

Brock frowned, but after a second look at Hunter he shrugged and nodded. He focused very intently on just the one spot that needed cauterizing and loosed just a tiny bit of his power. Hunter screamed in pain, but it was done quickly.

“Jesus, Hunter,” Bobbi whispered, and he grinned tightly at her.

“I ain’t leaving you in this fight without me, my girl. Now we’re even. A bum knee and a bum hand.”

“You two are cute, but can we save the sap for after the fight please?” Daisy broke in as she shot a wave of vibration over Hunter’s head to knock down an approaching handful of men.

“Yes, please,” Fitz broke in. “Because we’re still on the wrong side to the man who might be my soulmate and I am _so_ not okay with that.”

They’d only told Fitz about Sam the previous day. He’d gaped for several minutes and then wandered around in a daze all day. Daisy realised guiltily that she really hadn’t thought yet about how Fitz must be feeling.

“We’ll try to get to him quickly, Fitz,” she said reassuringly. “You two, get in the air before we get overwhelmed down here,” she added to Brock and Vision. They obliged, Brock jumping onto Vision’s back just as the AI left the ground.

Romanoff caught sight of Barnes and raced off, fully intending to keep him occupied until Wanda could help him. Cap’s return to the fight was heralded by his shield flying through the air again, but Daisy deflected it with a burst of power.

Hawkeye and Trip, ably backed up by Fitz and Jemma, strode forward, creating a phalanx with Wanda at its centre and Daisy at the fore, blasting enemies out of their way as they headed for Cap, Coulson, Bobbi and Hunter bringing up the rear.

Blasts of searing light from the skies rained down again and again, and Daisy could feel Brock’s exultation as he sent their enemies scurrying for cover.

_You’ll want a wingpack like Falcon’s!_ she threw at him.

_What a fucking awesome idea,_ he responded gleefully.

“Oh God,” she said aloud, shook her head as Trip cast her a sideways look. Blasted another HYDRA goon out of the way and knocked Cap’s shield down again.

A streak of blue whizzed in from the side and Pietro caught Steve looking the wrong way, focussed on the wrong threat. He went crashing to the ground, but Falcon came sprinting in from the other side, one huge metal wing bowling Wanda off her feet just as she got to Steve.

Hawkeye loosed an arrow which jammed in the wing, hissing and sparking as electronic components shorted out - permanently this time. Swearing, Sam hit his feet and Trip punched him hard in the face.

“Wanda, get Falcon while you’re close,” Daisy directed. “I’ll occupy Cap.” She sent her power into the ground, causing it to crack and buckle as Cap tried to pick himself up out of the dirt. She darted in and scooped his shield off the ground, both to keep it from him and in case he tried to take a swing at her.

Wanda shook her head, reorienting herself as she recovered from the hit. She nodded in response to Daisy’s instructions and grabbed for Sam’s off hand as he tried to backhand Trip. “Stop this!” she commanded as her hand glowed red, her power breaking the chains in his mind. Sam stumbled and fell to his knees, crying out in agony, and Wanda let go of his hand. Turning her head, she caught Fitz’s eyes. “Your soulmate needs you,” she said, and Fitz stumbled closer, going to his knees beside Sam, who stared at him wide-eyed, blood trickling from his nose.

Unable to help herself, Daisy glanced over her shoulder at Sam and said, “Sam Wilson, meet Leo Fitz. Fitz, your soulmate, Sam. I wish you could sneak away for a heart-to-heart, but we’ve got problems!” She ducked under Cap’s swing and turned quickly to hit him in the back with her power, sending him sprawling. “Wanda, coming your way!”

Darting over to the fallen man, Wanda drew on her power again and her glowing hand touched Steve’s face. “No more of this, my friend. Help us, now.”

“Wanda? What?” Steve looked confused as sense returned to his eyes.

“No time, Cap,” Daisy said. “Here, have this back.” She tossed him his shield, unable to frisbee it like he did but managing to cover the distance anyway.

Steve looked around, quickly assessing the tactical situation. “Where’s Lorelei?” he asked.

“I believe her to be inside the main building, Captain!” Vision called down to them, coming in to land with Rumlow. They’d just brought War Machine crashing to the ground for a third time, and Bobbi and Hunter hurried over, prying off his face plate.

“Coulson?” Steve said then, his eyes widening as he froze, staring incredulously at Phil.

“No time now, Cap!” Barton gave him a shove in the back.

“You _knew_ ,” Phil said to Clint as they sprinted towards Rhodey, laying down covering fire for Wanda once again as she knelt to touch him.

Clint threw Phil a sardonic look. “I _am_ a spy. Plus, Hill’s not actually as good at keeping secrets as she’d like - not from people who have known her since she was a raw recruit, anyway.”

The opposition fire was beginning to die down as Quicksilver cleared the field. Natasha was keeping the Winter Soldier busy, but Brock could see she was beginning to tire. Barnes caught her with a metal fist to the ribs just then and she went flying and lay still.

Jemma, of all people, was closest. Leaping forward over Natasha’s fallen body, she shouted up at Barnes as he strode forward.

“No! No, you won’t hurt he _uuuurgh_!” A metal hand closed on her throat. All she could do was gaze up into the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen, _knowing_ they’d be the last thing she’d _ever_ see.

“Jemma!” Daisy screamed in horror as Barnes lifted her, the metal arm whirring as his fingers began to tighten. He froze for an instant, brow furrowing, staring into Jemma’s terrified eyes.

“No, you fucking don’t,” Natasha said weakly from the ground, and slammed a whole bracelet full of Widow’s Bites into Barnes’s leg.

All three of them convulsed and collapsed, just as the remaining HYDRA forces rallied and came in for another attack.

Wanda belly-crawled all the way to Barnes as the others stood above her, returning fire with everything they had. She reached out and laid a hand to his unshaven cheek - and froze.

As the fire from the attackers died down to sporadic shots, and they began to hear shouted orders to retreat and regroup, it was Trip who first heard the sound of Wanda’s retching.

“Baby!” he sprinted to her, kneeling to gather her into his arms, but she fought him, fought to keep her hand in contact with Barnes’ face.

“ _No!_ No, I have to fix it _all_ , he’s so _broken…_ ”

Steve crouched beside them, his cheeks wet with tears. “He was broken long before Lorelei,” he said quietly. “Can you help him, Wanda?”

“Yes - I think so - she put him back together the way _she_ wanted, but…” Wanda groaned, and a trickle of blood began to seep from her nose.

“Christ, Wanda, please stop!” Trip begged, frightened, but she shook her head.

“Not yet… oh - what is this?” her voice softened, and a small smile touched her lips.

Barnes’ eyes snapped open. He stared at Wanda for an instant before his head jerked violently around to look at where Jemma lay fallen, bruise marks already springing up on her throat from the brutal grip of his metal fingers. A moment later he was moving, scrabbling desperately closer to her, reaching a shaking hand to find her pulse.

Trip flinched, reaching instinctively for his gun, but Wanda stayed his hand quickly.

“Buck?” Steve said, his voice not quite steady.

“Jemma. Her name is Jemma,” Bucky turned agonised blue eyes to Steve. “I almost killed her. _I almost killed my soulmate._ ”

“ _James_ ,” Daisy whispered in shock, remembering that long-ago day on the Bus when she and Jemma had bonded over both having a soulmark and Jemma had told her that the name on hers was James. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

Coulson blew out his cheeks, kneeling beside Natasha. “This is - really not a good time for this. We need to get under cover.”

“That building,” Steve shook off his shock and pointed. “We can take cover there. Lorelei’s lost almost all her manpower, she’ll surely break off the attack.”

“ _Can_ she?” Coulson asked seriously as Steve picked Natasha up. “I can’t imagine this will go unnoticed by Asgard for long, and once they get here, Lorelei’s done for, she has to know that. I think she’ll risk it all on one last throw of the dice.”

“You’re making far too much sense for a dead man,” Steve said grimly.

“Can you just let that go for now?”

“Yes, but we’re going to Talk later. No wonder Rumlow wouldn’t talk about who was in charge at SHIELD!”

“Fury had his reasons,” was all Coulson said.

“I just bet he did.”

War Machine was rising into the air again as Rhodey regathered himself. Sam’s wings were offline for now, and Fitz helped him support the unretracted one as they made a dash for the building. Hunter made Bobbi hold onto his shoulder for support, and Bucky lifted Jemma gently into his arms before running, the others once again providing covering fire for the more vulnerable in their ranks.

The building was secured, but a quick blast from Brock’s eyes to the locks soon fixed that problem, and soon they were safely inside, checking the place out quickly.

“Any radio chatter, Vision?” Brock asked the tall android.

“None,” Vision replied softly. They were both peering around the door, studying the main building. “And all electronics have been disconnected, inside. I cannot track where they are.”

Hawkeye, behind them, let fly with an arrow suddenly, and a man on the roof screamed and fell.

“Not bad, old man,” Pietro said teasingly in his thick accent.

“You wanna be useful, smart mouth, go fetch me some of my arrows. I’m runnin’ low.”

Before Rumlow could advise against it, Pietro was gone in a streak of blue, returning seconds later with a handful of arrows.

“Southern corner,” he said cheerfully, sauntering inside. “That is where they are.”

Daisy was looking around at their forces. Hunter and Bobbi were really both not fit for action. Romanoff was out for the count, Steve trying to revive her. Barnes was crooning over Jemma, Fitz and Sam utterly distracted by each other. Rhodey was on his feet, but barely, she suspected. He’d crash-landed three times and was looking pretty shaky. Wanda was lying across Trip’s lap, very pale, with both Trip and Pietro fussing over her, trying to staunch her bleeding nose.

Only Barton, Vision, Brock and herself were truly combat ready. Except Coulson, of course, who was also looking around assessingly - but _he_ only had one hand.

“We need to end this,” Phil said, echoing her thoughts. “Quickly.”

“Do we?” Clint asked. “You said yourself, the Asgardians will have noticed. I don’t doubt Thor will be on the way.”

“And if Lorelei gets a hand on _him_ we’ve got even bigger problems,” Brock said sardonically. “I say we take the bitch out ourselves. And Rollins and Ward. While we’ve got all our enemies in one place.”

Clint hesitated. “You can’t fight her,” he said, his eyes haunted briefly.

“I can,” Daisy replied steadily. “I can fight her. You take care of the others, and leave Lorelei to me.”

“Skye, you don’t have the physical strength to stand up to an Asgardian,” Coulson objected.

Shaking her head, Daisy snorted. “If she gets close enough to hit me, I’ve already done at least four things wrong.” She looked at Phil intently, willing him to trust her. “I can do this.”

“Alright,” Coulson agreed as his expression softened just slightly. “Barton, keep your distance but watch everyone’s backs. Skye gets Lorelei. Vision and Brock go after Ward and Rollins; just so everyone’s on the same page, Ward and Rollins are both HYDRA enhanced. And guys,” he paused, then steeled himself. “Every time they pop up again, they’re more dangerous. Let’s end this.”

Daisy nodded slowly. “We’ve got this. But you might want to get Andrew here.” Her eyes flicked to Barnes and Rogers in particular. “I think we’re going to need him. Badly.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Coulson assured her. “You do your part, and the rest of us will pick up the pieces here. Hunter, Morse and I will cover the entrance and keep everyone else safe.”

“Stay safe,” Vision said as he exited the building.

“Hey, Rums, Daisy,” Hunter called out and they paused in the doorway to look back. “Don’t die out there.”

Rumlow grinned and Daisy winked. “Won’t be us dying,” Brock replied. Then they were gone.

Keeping to whatever cover they could find, the four moved stealthily towards the southern corner. There weren’t many HYDRA agents left standing, which was all to the good. Their individual adversaries were likely to require all their attention and focus.

They paused by the corner of the building and looked around. Spotted a small cluster of people, one of whom was quite clearly Lorelei. Brock glanced at Barton, and then up at the building in question. Barton nodded and backtracked enough to be out of sight of the enemy before pulling a grappling arrow and quickly scaling the side of the building. They gave him a few minutes to get into position before moving again.

_I’ll go first,_ Brock told Daisy silently. _If she sees me alone, she might be drawn out to try to trap me. Then you can trap her._

Daisy took a deep breath and nodded. _Just be careful._

Brock stood and began walking slowly towards the group. When Vision started to follow, Daisy grabbed his arm to hold him back. She sent him a brief explanation from her phone via the secure line that was still active, and saw him nod acceptance.

Ward spotted Brock first, lifted his gun and pulled the trigger. Brock seared the bullet out of existence before it even reached him, saw Lorelei’s hand come up and slap the gun barrel down. She stepped forward, out from behind the protection of her bodyguards, a smile on her lips.

“Come to me,” she said to Brock, a honeyed siren’s call. “You are worthy. I would have you at my side as I rule this world. Come to me.”

He kept walking. Saw Ward’s teeth bare.

_Get ready, baby_ , he thought at Daisy. Felt her preparing, as Vision moved to stand behind her, lifting her up, ready to take off.

“An Asgardian tried to take over the world not so long ago,” Brock said steadily. “It didn’t work out so well for him, either.”

“Ah,” Lorelei smiled, “but Loki does not have my advantages, does he?” She deliberately thrust out her chest as she moved closer, and Brock fought not to roll his eyes.

Vision suddenly shuddered behind Daisy as a hail of bullets slammed into him from behind. He dropped her back to her feet, turning, and she spun as well, already flinging her hands up to repel their attackers.

_Stall her, Brock, just gotta deal with this!_

Rollins, and a small HYDRA squad, assault rifles spitefully spitting bullets. Daisy sent them flying, and they all stayed down except for Rollins, who lost his gun but came back to his feet, a rictus of a grin spreading across his scarred face.

“Rumlow’s little whore,” he sing-songed. “I’m gonna gut you and let him watch.”

“No,” Daisy stopped Vision as he stepped forward. “This one’s mine. Go help Brock with Lorelei.”

“As you wish, Agent Johnson.”

She appreciated the way he didn’t question her ability to do so. Just turned around, his golden cape flowing behind him, and strode around the corner.

Rumlow was grappling with Ward and a couple of HYDRA goons, who were trying to force him down so Lorelei could touch him.

“Don’t damage him!” she snapped, “I want him whole - what a weapon he is! Magnificent!”

Rumlow was delaying, Vision realised. Waiting for Daisy. He could have killed Ward and the other two already, but he didn’t want to close with Lorelei. A wise decision. Vision strode forward, and Lorelei saw him coming.

“You again. Well, if you won’t obey me, I’ll just have to take the Mindstone for myself!” With an eldritch screech, she leaped forward.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Well, crap. Team’s split, people hurt, and Lorelei might get Brock! How’s that for a cliffhanger? (And no smut involved!)**
> 
>  


	64. You've Ruined Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final confrontation with Lorelei and Ward.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/Rumskye%2023_zpsnyokml7o.jpg.html)

“Fucking bitch!” Rollins growled at Daisy as she danced out of his reach again. She just smirked and sent another burst of vibration through the ground beneath his feet, making him stumble as he over-reached in attempt to grab her. “Why can’t you stand your goddamn ground and _fight!_ ”

“Because I’m not an idiot,” she snarked back at him. “And I have no intention of needing a rescue.”

“Keep dreaming, little girl,” he growled as he rolled with the fall. As he moved, he pulled a knife out of his boot and threw it at her. It would’ve been a deadly strike, if it had ever connected.

But it didn’t. She held out her hand and knocked the knife out of the air. She couldn’t quite turn it back on its path, but that didn’t matter. As long as it went nowhere near Rollins, it was a lost weapon.

“I’m getting tired of this,” she said flippantly as he struggled to his feet on the turbulent ground.

“Hold still, then, and I’ll at least kill you quickly.”

She snorted. “ _So_ not what I meant.” She held out a hand towards him and concentrated. At first he didn’t feel anything other than the ground steadying beneath his feet. Rollins started to grin, thinking maybe she was getting worn out.

His grin faltered when he realized he couldn’t move.

Daisy narrowed her eyes, focusing her sense of vibration on Rollins alone. She began accelerating the natural vibration of his body, his cells. Manipulating them faster and faster, watching as he lurched and cried out in pain.

“ _Bitch!_ ” he screamed at her, his face contorting, flushing blood-red as his heart accelerated to unsustainable levels, forced by her power to beat at a frequency too high for even an enhanced human to survive.

“Mass murdering traitor!” she yelled back at him, sending one last burst of power at him. _He tried to kill Brock, more than once,_ she told herself, firming her jaw. _We’ll never be safe if he doesn’t die here._

Rollins collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut. Daisy stood, breathing heavily, her hand still extended - but there was nothing to vibrate. His heart had burst inside his chest.

He was dead.

_I killed him. With my power_. She had to take a deep breath. Get herself under control. And then she wondered why she couldn’t feel Brock’s reassuring presence in the back of her mind, telling her that she’d done what had to be done, that the world was better off without Jack Rollins.

Whirling, sudden terror flooding through her, she sprinted around the corner of the building. Screamed with anguish as she saw Lorelei kick Vision in the chest hard enough to send him flying, shove Ward - the last of her men still standing - roughly aside and grab onto Brock’s wrist.

It was an odd sensation, for Brock. He stared into Lorelei’s green eyes as she smiled triumphantly at him. Felt her power pushing at his mind, grabbing greedily at him - but with sudden clarity he realised that there was nothing for her to get purchase _on_. The part of his mind that her power would affect was already fully occupied, by a soulbond in full bloom.

He smiled directly into her eyes as her brow began to furrow. “You pitiful creature. You call _that_ a bond? I _have_ a bond, a hundred, thousand times stronger than that weak reflection.”

Lorelei’s scream of pure rage echoed Daisy’s scream of terror, and even Ward put his hands over his ears at the shrill volume. Lorelei didn’t even have time to turn around before Daisy ran up, violently shoving the Asgardian enchantress away from Brock with her power. “Keep your filthy, slutty hands _off my soulmate,_ you bitch!” she screamed as she stopped at Brock’s side.

“Kill her,” Lorelei ordered Ward icily. “Because I _will_ have him. Lose her, and your bond won’t save you,” she snarled at Brock.

“I won’t go down that easily,” Daisy snarled back. Knowing Brock had her back, she shifted her stony gaze to Ward. “You couldn’t take me before, and you won’t do it now. And Rollins won’t be coming to your rescue. He’s dead.”

Brock hid his surprise beneath his blank facade, but inwardly he was startled by Daisy’s comment. She’d killed Rollins, and he hadn’t noticed? Damn. He knew he’d been distracted, but surely not that much!

“ _You_ killed him?” Ward’s tone was scornful. “You couldn’t kill a dog that was already dying.”

A glimmer of light caught the corner of Brock’s eye, and he turned to see a jet of - what he assumed was - magical energy heading from Lorelei’s outstretched hand towards Daisy. He grabbed her by the waist and moved her aside at the same time as he shot a burst from his eyes at the spell and watched it dissipate harmlessly.

“Because I once took pity on you and didn’t put those four bullets in your head?” Daisy said scornfully to Ward. He flinched, and something showed in his eyes, something more than his mindless devotion to Lorelei.

“I thought it was because you loved me,” he said softly.

“I cared about you, once. You were part of my team, my family. But I never loved you like you wanted me to,” she answered in a milder tone, but there was no room for misunderstanding in her voice. She meant it, without a doubt. “You knew I never could. From the very beginning, just about.”

Lorelei was watching them in apparent fascination, hands on her hips. “This is the maiden you loved, Ward,” she said with sudden enlightenment. “And all while she was bonded to _him_?”

“She wasn’t bonded!” Ward shouted, furious. “I saw her first, she was supposed to be _mine_ , I was _promised_ her! And _you_ , you ruined everything, letting the cat out of the bag too soon…” he whirled on Lorelei, pulling a knife from his sleeve, slashing at her throat.

She sidestepped, her eyes wide and shocked. “You cannot harm me!”

He struck again, and she broke his arm with an almost casual sweep of her wrist. Daisy braced herself for Ward to resume attacking them at Lorelei’s behest, and was startled when it never happened. Ward just kept after Lorelei, his face a mask of rage and thwarted possession.

“You’ve ruined _everything_!” Ward shouted at Lorelei, and she glared as she punched him in the chest. Brock saw Ward’s ribs give way as his chest collapsed from the force of the blow, heard the sickening crunch. Ward staggered and fell at her feet, and Lorelei smirked triumphantly.

“Fallen by your own foolishness, lusting after women you cannot have,” she taunted as his eyes glazed over. She turned back towards Brock and Daisy, her expression casually cruel.

Brock gathered himself to attack, but before he could move an arrow came hissing in from above them. Lorelei reacted quickly, catching the arrow, but she only held it for a moment before it exploded into a ball of flame, knocking her off her feet.

“Asgardians. They keep falling for that,” Barton called cheerfully, rappelling down the side of the building to land beside them, another arrow already nocked to his string. “Sorry for the delay; there was a welcoming party on the roof.”

The smoke cleared and Lorelei was visible, scorched but not significantly injured. She pushed herself to her feet, glaring. “You will pay for that!” she screamed as she noticed her burnt hair and skin.

“No,” Daisy said calmly. “He won’t.” She held out her hands, extending her power to immobilize the Asgardian. Lorelei shrieked again when she discovered that she couldn’t move.

“What’s the plan?” Barton asked. “We’ve got shackles that can hold Asgardians, used them on Loki once…”

“And then what?” Brock said dryly. “It’s not like we can imprison her here on Earth. She’s too dangerous.”

“And clearly Asgard’s dungeons are somehow not deep enough for the likes of her,” Daisy said, her hands still outstretched.

They’d almost forgotten about Vision, who’d been watching silently, his cape swirling around him.

“She will never give up her dreams of conquest,” he said quietly then. Almost kindly. “It is not in her. Her mind is too strong, I think, for the Scarlet Witch to overwhelm.”

“I don’t see that we have a lot of choice, but I’m also not sure how we kill her,” Barton said, his voice steady. “I’ve got no problem doing it, but I already know regular steel won’t cut through Asgardian skin. And we don’t have time to get Stark to forge a vibranium knife, or to get that blade out of Loki’s old sceptre we took the Mindstone from, it’s still in the Tower.”

Daisy glanced sideways at Brock. Her hands were still extended, the vibrations pinning Lorelei down, but he could feel the strain starting to tell on her. She wouldn’t be able to keep it up for very much longer.

_Can you do it, my love?_ she asked softly into his mind. _I don’t think I can. I killed Rollins, but - she’s Asgardian, she’s stronger._

_I can_. He’d never wanted her to see this, to see him kill. But bathed in her calm certainty that it must be done, that he was the only one who _could_ , Brock took a deep, slow breath and focussed on the woman snarling her rage at them still.

Blindingly bright light flared, and Clint and Daisy, with merely human eyes, had to look away. Only Vision watched, his face eerily calm, until the light faded and there was nothing left but ashes drifting slowly to the ground.

Brock closed his eyes. Lifted his hand to press on them lightly, felt Daisy’s arms slide around his waist as she leaned against him, sending him waves of loving, grateful approval.

“Good job, Rumlow,” Clint said quietly, stepping forward, stirring the ashes with the tip of his bow briefly. “Hello. What do we have here? Guys - Ward’s still alive!”

Daisy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, struggling for calm. After everything that had happened, she didn’t really want to deal with Ward. But at the same time… she knew she had to.

He was coughing blood as she approached, Brock at her shoulder, his hand lightly resting on the small of her back. She was in no danger, she knew that; even if she wasn’t fully capable of stopping Ward all by herself she knew Brock would never let him harm her.

Dark eyes flickered up as he saw her feet move into his vision, and the look on his face was so wretched that Daisy couldn’t help but feel pity for him.

“Lorelei’s dead,” she said quietly, “she can’t hurt you any more.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ward choked out in a low voice, blood dripping down his chin as he tried to speak. “Not gonna… survive this. But at least… can’t hurt you anymore.”

Daisy dropped to kneel in front of him, with Brock standing behind her right at her back, both of them looking down at the former specialist with a degree of pity. “I’m fine. No need to worry about me.”

“Always… worried about you,” Ward rasped.

“That may have been true,” Daisy demurred, her expression firming. “But you didn’t need to be. I can take care of myself, and I _never_ needed you to make choices for me about my life. I’m perfectly capable of making the right ones, even if you don’t agree with them.”

Ward stared at her for a long moment before coughing again, worse this time. He was getting weaker. Wordlessly, Brock handed Daisy a piece of cloth. She didn’t hesitate before leaning in and carefully wiping Ward’s mouth clean of blood.

“You’re not what I thought you were,” Ward said finally. “So… strong. Too strong for me.”

“Sshh,” she tried to tell him, seeing the agony that every word plainly cost him. “It’s all right.”

“No,” he choked out, his body suddenly wracked with violent tremors, but he was plainly determined to finish speaking. “No. I’m - I’m sorry, Skye.” A last brutal shudder went through him and he exhaled a spray of blood.

Daisy jumped back quickly to avoid being splattered - and when she looked back, Ward’s eyes were staring sightlessly up at the sky.

Brock reached down over her shoulder and closed Ward’s eyes as Daisy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He’s gone, now. You’re safe, Skye.” He deliberately used her older name, reminding her of everything that had changed in the last several months. This was just one more thing to deal with.

She nodded and took the hand he offered to help her to her feet. “Come on. We have a lot of clean-up to do, and a group of Avengers to keep from tearing Phil to pieces.” She glanced back at Ward, a part of her mind wondering _what-if_ … But ultimately, Brock was right. She was safe and so was everyone else she cared about. And neither Ward nor Rollins would be back to haunt their team, except in memory.

Barton and Vision were both watching them as they turned. “HYDRA have broken off the attack,” Vision said evenly. “With Lorelei’s demise, her forces recognised how outnumbered they were and have retreated.”

“How many were left?” Brock asked wearily.

Barton shrugged. “Maybe a dozen? Most of them injured, one way or another. I seriously doubt we’ll be seeing any of them for a good long while.”

“Cut off one head…” Brock muttered.

“We cut off more than one today, Rumlow,” was his answer, before Hawkeye turned away, his bow held at the ready, and began striding back towards the building where they’d left the others.

With a glance at Brock, Daisy followed quickly. Regardless of who was in good shape or bad shape, she wasn’t going to stand back and let the Avengers tear into Coulson for not revealing that he hadn’t stayed dead. Brock moved after her, Vision bringing up the rear.

“We should probably get communications back up and running, now that we don’t have to worry about all the techs being on the wrong side,” Brock commented to Vision as they headed back to the team.

“Indeed. I believe people inside the facility are already beginning the process, but it may be helpful if those of us with the skills to do so were to aid in the effort,” Vision replied.

“We can talk to Fitz; I’m sure he’ll be happy to help. He likes fixing things,” Daisy said over her shoulder.

“I think he might be a _little_ busy,” Brock, taller than she, could see what she couldn’t, just at that moment. Sam and Fitz, kissing as though their lives depended on it, up against the back wall of the building.

Daisy whistled in appreciation when she finally caught sight of Sam and Fitz. She grinned when Fitz began to blush, but blushing didn’t keep him from clinging to Sam. “You’re right, I forgot for a moment. Well, I’ll do what I can even if others are busy. Though I’m really software rather than hardware.”

“I believe I can handle that side of things quite well, if you have other things to be doing,” Vision said kindly.

“Yes. Of course. Living computer. What am I thinking,” Daisy muttered, but she was staring at Coulson, sitting with his back to the wall beside Steve Rogers, talking quietly with the supersoldier. Romanoff, conscious once again, sat on Coulson’s other side, listening but not speaking.

Pietro was standing with Hunter and Bobbi, plainly flirting with Bobbi, though she only looked amused. Hunter had a look on his face that made Daisy think that Pietro might want to start using his super-speed to depart the area at some point soon. Wanda was lying with her head in Trip’s lap while he stroked her hair - and Jemma was in an almost identical pose with Bucky Barnes.

Daisy approached Jemma slowly, moving to sit at her side. She kept a cautious eye on Barnes, but he seemed calm enough for the moment. “Jemma?” she asked in a low voice, not wanting to disturb any of the others. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, Skye!” Jemma enthused softly, forgetting about her friend’s change of name in her excitement. Daisy was content to ignore it for the moment, knowing everyone was probably tired and it was a fairly recent detail. “I met my soulmate! And I was right… this was definitely worth waiting for.”

With a smile, Daisy reached out to take Jemma’s hand. “I’m happy for you. Circumstances could’ve been better, but I’m glad it all worked out.” She shifted her gaze up to Barnes, brown eyes meeting blue. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Daisy Johnson.”

Barnes looked confused. “But Jemma just called you ‘Skye’ didn’t she?”

“Oops.” Jemma glanced apologetically at her friend, but Daisy shook her head and waved it off.

“It’s a long story; the short version is that I grew up an orphan and I only just recently learned my real name. I kept Skye as my middle name, though, and some of my old friends and teammates still use it sometimes,” she explained briefly. “I don’t really mind, but I’m trying to switch to using Daisy in memory of my parents.”

“I understand, and I can respect that,”  Barnes said lowly after a moment to think about what she’d said. “Nice to meet you, Daisy.”

Daisy’s smile brightened and she nodded in acceptance. “Are you two doing alright? Do we need to get anyone medical attention?”

While Daisy checked in with her friends,  Brock moved into Coulson’s view. He didn’t overtly interrupt,  but when Coulson caught sight of him the conversation with Steve paused. “What’s our status?” Coulson asked.

“Looks clear. Ward, Rollins and Lorelei are all dead; with them gone, the rest of the forces ran or surrendered,” Brock reported concisely.

“You’re sure they’re dead?” Coulson’s expression was just slightly skeptical; Brock could understand that, since most of them were supposed to have been dealt with in some way or another before.

“I’m sure. Lorelei is ashes,” Brock confirmed. “And I’m pretty sure even HYDRA’s enhancements won’t be bringing the other two back.”

“Or the drug that was used on me?” Pietro asked curiously.

“We’ll cremate the bodies. Just to make sure.” Natasha shoved herself to her feet, jerked her head at Barton. He followed her wordlessly out.

Coulson’s phone starting ringing in his pocket then and he fished it out wearily. “May,” he said with a wry twitch of an eyebrow.

And right then, there came the sound of AC/DC being blasted over speakers, followed almost instantly by a loud booming sound and a flash of lightning outside.

“Stark and Thor,” Steve said unnecessarily.

“They’re a little bit late to the party,” Brock remarked dryly.

“I think I’m good with that,” Daisy replied with a smirk. “They can handle the heavy lifting while the rest of us recover from the fight.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Whew! That’s over now, thank goodness. Just a few more things to wrap up, now...**
> 
>  


	65. I Said There Would Be Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the battle, the Avengers and SHIELD have a lot of things to discuss.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%2025_zpsmq6nbhoc.jpg.html)

The majority of the SHIELD team stayed at the Avengers facility over the next week. Fitz and Simmons were not about to be separated from their soulmates, for one thing. And once Andrew arrived… well, everyone acknowledged that he had his work cut out for him dealing with superheros who had been mind controlled and taken advantage of by Lorelei.

Daisy, Brock, Coulson, Trip, Wanda, Vision and Romanoff took over running the repair effort and getting the facility fully functional again. Stark stayed long enough to get things running and to have a long-overdue and highly-emotional talk with Coulson. He offered an extraordinary amount of money to Andrew as a retainer fee if he would make himself available for the Avengers as needed; Andrew said he would think about it.

Thor was still around; he had no idea how Lorelei had escaped Asgard a second time, and he felt guilty for not being there to help deal with her. But his understanding of the effects of her magic - he couldn’t explain how it worked, but he knew how she affected people, having once suffered the effects himself - helped Andrew with counseling the others.

Daisy sat alone in an upper lounge, feeling rather useless. Vision was easily on top of getting systems functional again, so her primary specialty wasn’t needed. She wasn’t a therapist and she’d never been through anything remotely like the male Avengers had been, so she wasn’t much help with them. And Coulson definitely didn’t need her help to re-forge bonds with the various Avengers.

And being useless sucked, because it meant that she didn’t have work to distract her from her thoughts.

“Hey,” a quiet voice said, and she looked up to see Jemma. “Mind if I join you?”

“I thought you were still fangirling over Helen Cho?” Daisy made space for her on the couch and Jemma sat down with a little smile.

“Well. Yes. But I finally bullied Coulson into going into the Cradle for a new hand and honestly there’s nothing to see at the moment. He’ll be out in about an hour.”

“Are you… is Barnes…” Daisy didn’t quite know how to ask.

“He says he’s not interested. That he’s had the arm a long time.” Jemma smiled softly as she thought of her soulmate. He’d been spending more time with Andrew than any of the others, and had also bonded closely with Sam, which made both Jemma and Fitz happy, to see their soulmates getting along so well.

“I can understand that.” Daisy hesitated before asking; “What’s he like, Jemma? I mean, I know he must be pretty special, to be _your_ soulmate.” She nudged Jemma’s knee with a grin. But Barnes had barely said a word in her presence yet, watched her warily when they were in a room together.

Jemma’s smile was unchanged, though. “He’s lovely,” she said softly. “So gentle. He - had some bad experiences with what HYDRA called Gifteds. Like Donnie Gill. So he’s a bit wary of you, yet.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Daisy nodded. “How does he treat _you_?”

Jemma’s eyes were shiny. “I finally _understand_ ,” she said, and Daisy couldn’t help but lean in and hug her.

“It’s magical, isn’t it?”

“It is. It really, really is.”

“And coming from the girl who believes that magic is just science we’re not sufficiently advanced enough to understand, that’s saying a lot,” Daisy grinned.

“Even Thor says it’s magic, though, and we know Asgardian science is millennia ahead of ours!”

They hugged again as Daisy laughed at Jemma’s reversal in attitude. “Have you bonded?” Daisy asked a little tentatively.

“Not yet,” Jemma made a little face. “He says he doesn’t want to inflict his mental trauma on me.”

“That’s not how it works,” Daisy shook her head.

“I know, I asked Sam! Because he and Fitz, well, they _have_ , I think they did the first night, and Sam’s a VA therapist too, and Andrew doesn’t have a soulmark…”

“I get why you asked Sam,” Daisy said with a grin. “But you could have asked _me_ , you know. Since I’ve had a bond a lot longer.”

“Oh!” Jemma blinked, and then laughed. “I suppose, you and Brock just seem so - perfect.”

“Jemma,” Daisy took her hand and spoke seriously. “We’re not perfect. Even with the bond, we have misunderstandings, usually when we try to ‘protect’ each other from ugly truths. We both messed up at Afterlife. He tried to hide his misgivings about Mo- about Jiaying, from me, because he could see how much I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“Would you have believed him?”

“I - think I would, actually. I know if he’d really opened up, really shared, that I wouldn’t have dismissed his feelings, because I’d have felt them too. Maybe things would have played out differently, we’ll never know. But I messed up too. I knew he was keeping something from me, and I didn’t push. I think - maybe deep down I knew something wasn’t right too, and I didn’t want that suspicion confirmed.”

Jemma was listening intently. Daisy took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is that while soulmarks and soulbonds are something special, it’s still a relationship. One built on trust. It takes work. Don’t shut each other out; _talk_ about any issues, because there _will_ be issues. Tell him how you feel about him withholding the bond, Jemma; I know how much you must want it, and it does make a huge difference.”

“I will,” Jemma said determinedly. “I’m gonna go find him. Right now.” She dished out another hug and leaped up, rushing off.

“Nice advice, soulmate,” Brock said, stepping out from the doorframe where he’d been standing concealed. Daisy had known he was there all along, of course. She smiled up at him as he took the seat Jemma had just occupied - and then pulled her into his lap.

Daisy burrowed into his embrace with a soft sigh, letting his warmth and his presence ease her mind, if only for a little while. “About the only good thing that can come from epic mistakes is the opportunity to help others _not_ make them,” she answered softly. “And I don’t really see any good reason not to bond if they both want it. I know we were different in that; you were amazingly patient with me. But for them… there’s no doubt, and they want to be together. So why not?”

“Barnes may not be as ready as you think.”

“I know. But if that’s the truth, Jemma needs to know it and not just having him making excuses about it. You _knew_ I wasn’t ready. That’s why you never pushed. I know that. I knew it then. It’s part of what I love about you,” she reminded him.

“You want to know what I love about you?” Brock asked in a low tone. Daisy nodded; not because she didn’t know, but because hearing him say it always helped her feel better. “It’s this.” He brushed his fingers over her heart, then waved towards the door Jemma had left through. “Your heart. How much you care about other people. The way you want to help them, no matter what else you’re dealing with.” Daisy smiled. “It’s how you always try to find the best in any situation. You did something very like it when we talked at SciTech, remember?”

“Huh. Hadn’t thought about that in a while, actually. I should have, though. If I’d remembered how I felt about SHIELD then, perhaps things would’ve gone differently in Afterlife.”

Brock chuckled. “SHIELD had rather pulled the rug from under our feet before we went to Afterlife. I’m not really surprised you reacted the way you did.”

_I’m so glad that I really am your Daisy,_ she told him silently. _Thank you for believing when I couldn’t._

_Anytime, baby. Anytime at all._ Brock tugged her closer and caught her lips in a sweet kiss.

They were snuggling together in quiet loving communion when the sound of footsteps reached Brock’s sensitive ears. With a sigh, he pulled back from the embrace. “We’re about to have company, love.”

It was Steve, and Coulson, walking and smiling together, both looking at Phil’s hand as he flexed his fingers wonderingly. The hand looked very pink and fresh, like just-healed skin, but it was amazing to see. Daisy jumped up and ran to him, giving him a tight hug which made Phil smile and hug her back.

“Dr. Cho really is a miracle worker,” he said as she took his hand to study it, a huge smile on her face. “She’s going to fix Bobbi’s knee, too.”

Steve was waiting patiently, and when Daisy had finished fussing over Coulson, he gestured her back to sit beside Brock. “Phil and I, we wanted to talk to you two first,” he began, sitting down himself. “Informally. There’ll be papers and such to sign, but - before any of that, I wanted to thank the two of you. Personally.”

Daisy blinked. “What for?”

“For saving the Avengers. And quite likely the world. If Lorelei had managed to get her hands on the Mindstone…” There was a collective shudder of horror, and then Steve continued. “I honestly think we’d have lost without your help. You guys turned the tide, you destroyed the threat. So thank you.”

“It was our job,” Brock shrugged a bit bashfully.

“Technically saving the world is the Avengers’ job,” Steve said dryly, “and while I actually intended to ask you two to join us, Phil jumped up and down and screamed that we’re decimating his staff.”

Daisy had to put her fingers to her lips to hide her smile at Phil’s indignant expression.

“There was no jumping up and down or screaming,” Phil reproached. “There was, however, quite a lot of discussion about where we go from here, since I’m well aware that separating soulmates constitutes cruel and unusual punishment. I know how hard it was for the two of you in the early days, and I wouldn’t like to see Jemma and Fitz go through that.”

“I can’t say we were happy with it, but we understood the necessity,” Daisy answered after a moment. “But I’m glad that they won’t have to go through something like we did. So what comes next, then? Do we relocate SHIELD to somewhere nearby, so neither team has to lose their people?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Coulson agreed, surprising Brock and Daisy. “Fury is bringing the Helicarrier back to us, and I’ll be moving SHIELD HQ there as a more mobile base.”

“Is it really safe to move SHIELD’s R&D to a vehicle 40,000 feet into the air?” Brock’s tone was skeptical.

“Probably not. But R&D will probably accomplish more if we pool resources with the Avengers’ scientists. So we’d base Simmons, Fitz, and the rest of the SciTech staff here. It gives the couples the ability to find homes of their own, as well,” Coulson explained.

“We’re happy to have them here,” Steve agreed with a smile when Daisy glanced at him. “Dr. Cho and her team have expressed interest in collaboration with other developmental divisions in the past, and Jemma seems to get along with Helen fairly well. Erik Selvigg has already adopted both of them, too.”

Brock nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. So what would we do with the Playground?”

“I thought about putting May in charge there; we can keep the Operations department functional and Bobbi and Hunter are going to head up the STRIKE teams we’re building. We’ll probably incorporate some Specialist training for individual operatives at the same time.”

“But I thought May was going to head up the new base at Afterlife?” Daisy asked, forgetting for a moment that Steve might not know about it. She shot an apologetic look to Phil, but he just shook his head with a small smile.

“She gave a good assessment of the area, but didn’t think she’d want to be there long term,” Coulson began. “I thought I’d see if perhaps you two would like to go instead?”

Brock frowned briefly; neither of them had particularly good memories of Afterlife. But before answering, he reached out silently to Daisy. _What do you think?_

Though her initial reaction was surprise, Daisy found the idea actually growing on her. _I think… I might like that. We did talk briefly at one point about a house, and I kind of have a whole town there. Think we could find a place we like?_

“I can be happy wherever you are, baby,” Brock said, only realising when he saw Steve’s grin that he’d said that aloud.

“You sap, Rumlow.”

Brock refused to be embarrassed about it. He just shrugged with a grin in return. “You’re right that we do need someone senior from SHIELD at Afterlife, Coulson,” he said. “And someone who’s a qualified quinjet pilot.”

“At least in the short term,” Coulson agreed. “Though now Stark knows that teleportation is possible, I’m afraid he and Fitz have taken to the problem like a dog with a juicy bone.”

That made Daisy laugh. “I dread to think!” She thought for a moment. “Who else would be at Afterlife?”

“Mack I believe will stay, if we’re using that as a secure location for artefact storage. A storage facility the Avengers want to make use of as well. And in that case, it’s yet another reason to have you two there, since it will need to be well defended.”

“And Alisha?” Brock asked shrewdly.

Phil didn’t attempt to conceal his smile. “It _is_ her home. Lincoln will probably vary his time between there and here with R&D.”

Daisy felt Brock’s pleasure at the idea of being near Alisha, the chance to get to know his sister better. “There’s a lot to do at Afterlife,” she agreed. “A lot of records to go through, for one. Lincoln said they have written histories of Inhumans for hundreds of years.”

“Which SHIELD and the Avengers need to know about. We may be able to cross-check and identify a number of them against our records. And HYDRA’s, too.”

“And the current Inhumans, if they’ll trust Alisha and Lincoln - we need to be there as the Inhuman face of SHIELD, as evidence that SHIELD really is willing to work _with_ powered people.” Daisy looked at Brock, who nodded in agreement with everything she was saying, for Phil and Steve’s benefit. “Okay. We’ll do it.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Phil answered with a smile. “We’ll miss you, of course, but we really do think this will be the best division of resources going forward.”

“It’s not like we won’t see you,” Brock said wryly, “if you’re floating around in the Helicarrier I’ve no doubt you’ll drop by regularly.”

“I hear it’s very peaceful up there.”

“You’ll be welcome. You’ll all, always, be welcome,” Daisy looked at Steve too, who smiled.

“Thank you. As you will be here, or anywhere else the Avengers are.”

“I can think of a few reasons to come back to the States a few times anyway,” Brock added, chuckling. “I’m not sure Jemma will forgive us if we don’t at least consult her when we start planning the wedding,” he teased Daisy gently. “And you have some distant relatives to look up at some point, don’t you?”

Daisy brightened at the reminder and nodded. “That’s true, I do. So I’m sure we’ll be in and out, at least for a while. And while the landscape at Lai Shi would be awesome for wedding pictures, it might be easier for everyone to get to if we plan something here.”

Coulson just chuckled. “I’ll fly the whole team to Afterlife for the wedding, if that’s where you want to get married, Skye.”

“Can I ask why you use two different names?” Steve asked then. “I remember back when we first met, you called yourself Skye, and Coulson still does; But Rumlow calls you Daisy and that’s how you introduced yourself when we met again?”

“Legally, I’m Daisy Skye Johnson. Skye was the name I used when I first joined the team, a name I chose for myself because I didn’t know my real one,” Daisy explained. “I went back to Daisy to honor my parents’ memory, but just like Phil is sometimes still AC to me I don’t mind being Skye for him.” She looked at Phil with a soft expression, and Steve just nodded his understanding.

Phil surprised Daisy then by giving her a hug. Always it had been she who initiated any expressions of physical affection between them. She accepted the hug gladly, hugging him back until he gently let her go.

“Whatever name you choose to use,” Phil told her quietly, “I’m very, very proud of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Aww. We’ve both always loved the father/daughter dynamic between Skye and Phil. And now they don’t have to keep it secret anymore, either.**


	66. It's Good To Be Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Daisy settle into their new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter is NSFW. (Couldn't end the story without one more smut scene :) )**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%2024_zps9eb1try3.jpg.html)

“I think I like this one,” Daisy commented. She and Brock had consulted Lincoln and Alisha about which buildings in Afterlife were used for what purpose. There were very few permanent residences there. Aside from Jiaying and a couple of others, most of the Inhumans really did live their lives elsewhere and only stayed in the isolated village when they were needed.

She had already rejected the idea of taking over her mother’s home. It was one of the grander residences, as much because it was intended to be long-term as because of her position, but Daisy wanted them to be more approachable. She thought they might make use of some of the furnishings, though. And they could rearrange furniture in the various guest houses as needed to cover for the items they appropriated.

Alisha, Lincoln and Mack all claimed to be content with the usual guest accommodations, though they did intend to each choose one for long-term ownership. But Brock and Skye were a little more choosy, knowing that there was a possibility their family would expand after they were married.

Brock looked around the large building. It had four good-sized rooms that could easily be used as bedrooms, plus a large and open living/kitchen area, and a pair of smaller rooms at the other end that could be adapted as offices. Brock thought that possibly they could add additional external doors to the offices to allow access from outside without needing to bring anyone through their living space.

Aside from the fact that it was a larger space - they thought perhaps it had been a gathering space of some sort at one point, with private rooms for smaller meetings - the back patio had a small garden and a spectacular view, being on the edge of the settlement.

“If you’re happy, sweetheart, I’m happy. It doesn’t look like it was intended to be a home, though, so we’ll have to go round up some furniture.”

“I think I have some ideas on that,” Daisy replied with a smile. “Come on, let’s go get the others to help us move things.”

An hour later, they had most of what they would need. A bed, a wardrobe, a pair of dressers and a nightstand filled out the bedroom they chose as their own. A couple of desks had been put in the office rooms, and Alisha had found them a lovely dining set.

Daisy had no objections to simply acquiring her mother’s collection of dishes, utensils and other kitchen necessities. They lacked some of the more modern conveniences, but they could always get Phil to send them the things they absolutely needed. Alisha and Lincoln were currently in Jiaying’s former home, carefully wrapping and packing up china and stemware pieces for the short move.

Brock and Mack were currently each maneuvering one end of a comfy couch that went nicely with the chairs Daisy had brought in. She grabbed a water bottle and watched from safely out of the way while the two men shifted the heavy piece of furniture. She licked her lips, her eyes roaming appreciatively over the bulging muscles that Brock’s t-shirt did nothing to conceal.

Her eyes followed his form as he leaned over to set the couch down, following the line of his back down to his tight ass. Catching the direction of her thoughts, Brock glanced over his shoulder and shot her a smoldering look. She shivered at the heat in his eyes.

“Woah, now,” Mack broke in, his tone teasing. “I think that’s my cue to leave you lovebirds alone.”

Brock chuckled as Daisy nodded, and Mack beat a hasty retreat. Just as Mack got to the door, Lincoln and Alisha appeared with a couple of boxes. The look of shock on both their faces when Mack took the boxes, shoved them just inside the door and then quickly slammed the door closed again was even more amusing.

But Daisy was too preoccupied with the look in her soulmate’s eyes to notice their friends.

“Y’know, our bed’s all made up,” Brock rumbled, stalking towards her. “Could do with christening.”

“You think?” She couldn’t take her eyes off the way he moved, his gait predatory, muscles rippling under his tight T-shirt. “You wore a shirt that tight on purpose, didn’t you?” she accused.

“Did I?” She could feel the thread of laughter in his thoughts. “Can I help it if I know how much my soulmate likes looking at my body in tight clothes?”

The role reversal made her laugh; she looked down at her own practical but hardly form-fitting jeans and plaid shirt. “Oh, dear, should I reciprocate?”

Brock smiled, slipping his arms around her waist. “You are beautiful to me no matter what you wear,” he murmured before taking her lips in a slow, possessively deep kiss.

Daisy ran her hands up his arms, squeezing deliberately on his thick biceps; he chuckled into her mouth before swooping suddenly and scooping her up in his arms. “Carry you across the threshold?” he suggested as he carried her into their bedroom and laid her on the bed.

“We’re not married yet.”

“Not yet. Soon, though?” he looked at her from pleading gold-brown eyes and she nodded and smiled.

“Very soon.”

“Good. I gotta make an honest woman out of you.” He kissed slowly down her throat, sucking in a little bruise just above her collarbone while he deftly unfastened her shirt buttons. “Gotta make you _mine_ ,” Brock’s voice dropped to that low, husky tone she knew so well.

“I’m always yours,” she whispered, tugging at his shirt until he leaned back and yanked it off over his head. “I’ve always been yours, and I always will be.”

“Yes,” he reached down, traced his fingers lightly over her name on his stomach, the name she now accepted as her own. “Yes, your name on my skin and mine on yours. Show it to me.”

She rolled over, felt his hand touch her lower back, and then the warm heat of his lips, the wet flicker of his tongue. Her bra popped undone and she smiled into the pillows. His possessive streak was showing again, not that she had the least objection.

His lips followed the curve of her spine from her neck down to the rounded curve of her ass, lingering again on her soulmark. She shivered at the teasing, tantalising kisses but when she would have rolled over to face him, his hands on her back prevented it. “Not yet, sweetheart,” he told her, his tone low and rough with desire. She felt his _hunger_ and relaxed beneath him, her body going pliant under his hands. “Good girl,” he murmured against her skin. He slid one hand beneath her hips to pop the button on her jeans and wiggle the zipper just loose enough to tug them down over her hips.

“Fuck,” Brock cursed softly when he revealed her ass, superbly shown off by a deep red thong. He quickly discarded her jeans and ran his hands over the smooth globes bared by her almost non-existent underwear.

She turned her head enough to peek at him through her hair. “Well, yeah, that was kinda the point,” she smirked.

He slapped her ass in admonishment for her cheekiness; she jumped at the brief pain, then relaxed with a soft moan.

“Cheeky madam,” Brock smiled as her body went lax, bent down to nip lightly at her buttock, rubbing the raspy stubble on his cheek over it. “Still giving me sass.”

“Always,” she responded on a breathy little gasp as he nipped her again, to which he naturally responded with another spank. “Ahhhh.”

Brock’s fingers slipped between her legs as they spread, Daisy lifting her hips instinctively. “You’d been eyeing me for a while, hadn’t you?” he murmured deeply. “I could feel you, you know. Looking at my ass.” He pressed against the wet satin, rubbed. “You’re wet for me, my gorgeous girl.”

“Always,” she responded for a second time, but this time he responded with a firmer press against the wet strip of cloth between her legs. “Love to watch you move. So strong, and I love to see it,” she moaned softly. “Can’t help but think about what you can do with those strong arms and tight ass.”

“I can fuck you into next week, that’s for sure,” he replied filthily, about to rip her thong away when he paused. “I suppose you like these panties?” Brock asked a little guiltily.

Daisy snorted into the pillow. “I took you up on that offer to go shopping with your credit card. There’s plenty more where these came from.”

He laughed. “Still. I like them on you. Let’s keep them.” Easing them down her thighs, he peeled them off rapidly before suddenly flipping her to her back.

“Hey!” she squeaked indignantly, her breasts bouncing.

“What?” kneeling between her legs, he hooked his elbows under her knees. “Hoping for a bit more spanking, were you?”

She couldn’t help her blush and slightly embarrassed giggle. Brock smiled back at her. “I can still do that from here, baby. Don’t you worry. I just like looking at you.” He slid down, using his thick shoulder to push her thigh higher. “Touching you. Tasting you.” His tongue flicked out, stroking lightly up through her folds - and he rolled them both sideways at the same time, his palm lashing down on the back of her thigh.

Daisy yelped softly but offered no resistance as he shifted them until they were both comfortable. She moaned louder when his tongue slid over her flesh again, flicking up towards her clit. “Yes, please,” she whimpered. “Don’t stop.”

 _Don’t intend to_ , he assured her silently without lifting his mouth from her. He teased her slowly, flicking at her clit and then away to run his tongue over her slick folds. Never staying in one place long enough to do more than tease her. Her hips shifted slightly, trying to get his mouth where she wanted it, resulting in another spank. Tuned into her mind, in deep communion with her, he knew how much she was enjoying it, her frustration simmering at a manageable level as he carefully combined pain and pleasure to stimulate her senses.

The only problem was, Brock realised ruefully, that he was driving himself utterly insane as well, his hips grinding helplessly against the mattress until he had to give up and sit up, yanking off his boots and the rest of his clothes.

Daisy grinned shamelessly up at him. “Need something, my love?”

“Need _you_.” He leaned back in to kiss her hungrily, his aching cock straining towards her as he lifted his hips to thrust deep, moving slow but inexorable, a long steady push until he was fully sheathed, wet heat clamped tight around him. “Always need you,” Brock whispered, kissing her again.

“Oh, Brock,” Daisy groaned, reaching up and putting her arms around him, tracing her fingertips over the tightly defined muscles of his back as he flexed and surged, long slow thrusts inside her.

“So good,” he murmured back to her, though neither of them needed the words, the sensations and emotions flowing between them more complex than mere words could ever adequately express. “So perfect, baby, you’re always so amazing…” he kissed her in between gasped words, stubble rasping on her lips and chin in a way he knew stimulated her and excited her both. Her slim legs were tangled with his, ankles hooked behind his thighs, her hips rolling up to meet his thrusts, urging him on.

Daisy made soft moaning sounds in her throat, gasping in a quick breath between kisses when he murmured softly to her. She was beyond words, just moving with him as the pleasure built between them. Suddenly she felt his hands beneath her hips, shifting the angle so that he slid over _that_ spot inside her with every stroke. She began to keen, knowing through the bond that neither of them would last much longer.

“That’s it, baby,” Brock panted, his hips snapping back and forth faster, harder, driving both of them wild. Her nails scored his shoulders, her hair tossed as her head thrashed from side to side, and he gazed at her, greedily drinking in the sight of his beloved in the throes of her pleasure even as his own overwhelmed him.

He wasn’t done with her, though. Their bed wasn’t nearly messed up enough yet. So after just a few moments of respite, he rolled to his back, easily taking her with him, stroking his fingers slowly down her spine until she stirred and lifted her head, smiling down at him.

“You’re insatiable.”

Brock grinned in agreement. “You’re too damn tempting.” He was already hard again inside her, and she was beginning to shift against him, stimulated again and ready for more. “And you love it.”

“Yes,” Daisy agreed breathlessly as he lifted her easily, sitting her upright, his strong hands on her hips raising her until just the very tip of his cock was inside her.

And then holding her still.

“Brock!” she yelped, already knowing she couldn’t fight his strength, but frantically trying to grind down on him anyway. He laughed - and then _dropped_ her, hard, jolting up into her and lifting his hips to get as deep as possible.

She nearly came again; felt his ecstasy at having done that to her, and lost it entirely, grinding down hard against him as she rode him like a bucking bronco, begging hoarsely for _more, harder, faster_ \- and getting it.

She threw her head backwards, body arching from the sheer pleasure as he thrust up into her hard, again and again. Gasped in a breath and _screamed_ as she came again, completely uncaring who might hear her. Brock grinned as he watched her; didn’t stop thrusting despite her clutching body, prolonging her pleasure as long as possible before the intensity became too much for him and he followed her with a shout of his own.

Daisy all but melted into his arms as she slowly came down, aftershocks still coursing through her. He gathered her limp body into his arms, cradling her gently and curling protectively around her. _I love you_ , she whispered into his mind, her mental tone purring with satiation.

 _I love you too, my beautiful minx,_ he answered.

They lay curled together for a long time, savouring the closeness, the peace, the utter contentment they both felt in that perfect moment.

It was Brock who found the words to express what they were both feeling.

"It feels so good to be home, at last."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ahh, yes. Home. Such a lovely thing.**
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> **Just one more post coming. A bit of closure. Almost there...**
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	67. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Four years later…_

[ ](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/rumskye%202_zpsuqepn0mo.jpg.html)

“You ready, baby?”

Daisy took a deep breath, glanced up at Brock, and smiled. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

He nodded, his arm around her waist gently guiding her through the door. The girl behind the desk looked up and smiled at them, offered a pleasant greeting.

“Here for adoptions day? Through that door.”

Passing through, they found a big room, several people standing about and chattering, looking at animals in pens.

Dr Winslow turned and smiled cheerfully at them before blinking and saying, “I remember you!”

Brock and Daisy both froze in sudden horror.

“Daisy, wasn’t it? Now did you make an honest woman of her yet?” Cal grinned at Brock.

“I did. A while back now.” Brock relaxed, and felt Daisy relax against him, letting out a relieved huff of breath. “We’re expecting an addition to our family, though,” his fingers splayed out lightly over her stomach, just barely beginning to swell. “We remembered what you said, about a house not being a home without a pet. We thought, maybe a puppy so they can grow up together.”

“Perfect!” Cal clapped his hands delightedly. “Well, we’ve got several pups who need a loving home. Over here. Were you hoping for a particular breed of dog?”

“I don’t know much about dog breeds. Just something good with children,” Daisy said as Cal beamed happily at her. “Probably not a little sort of dog. We live in quite a cold, mountainous spot.”

Cal brightened even further. “I have _just_ the dog for you! Meet Rufus,” he led them to a cage. “We’re not sure what breed he is - the colouring suggests part German Shepherd, but honestly he’s a bit of a mutt.”

The dog looked up at them from huge brown eyes. Red-brown with black splotches, it was all gangling legs and huge paws, one ear upright while the other flopped comically downwards.

“He’s about six months old, just been desexed,” Cal chattered on, “but it’s obvious he’s going to be a very big dog, and most city folks don’t want that…”

Rufus stood up and whined, staring at Daisy. She smiled. “He’s adorable. Can I open the door?”

“Absolutely, he’s very friendly!”

Daisy opened the cage door and let Rufus out. He darted straight to her, puppy eyes pleading even as she reached out to scratch his ears. His tail wagged madly and she laughed. “Oh, you are adorable!” She sat down on the floor and in a split second she had a lap full of excited puppy. He licked her face until she laughed and pushed him away.

“He must have good judgment, sweetheart. He certainly seems to like you,” Brock teased gently, smiling when Rufus scrambled over to him when he knelt beside Daisy. More enthusiastic puppy-licking happened before Brock could push him back down. Rufus, calmer from the attention, sniffed curiously at Daisy. He nosed at the soft curve of her belly, whining briefly and then looking up at her.

“Oh, wow. Can he tell I’m pregnant?” Daisy asked.

“Some dogs certainly can,” Cal explained, beaming as he watched the playful interaction between the couple and the young animal. “Shepherding dogs are frequently good with small children, too. They’re very patient and protective. I’ve even seen them curl up next to an infant to keep them from rolling off a mat or into a table.”

“He’s precious.” Daisy looked up at Brock and saw him nod agreement. “I think we’ll take him.”

“Wonderful!” Cal exclaimed. He got out a clipboard with the necessary paperwork. “I’ll admit, I was a little worried about him. A lot of city dogs don’t get enough exercise, and he’s going to need it. Plus, there are some folks who would struggle to feed him and I wouldn’t want to see that happen to either Rufus or the family.”

“That won’t be a problem with us. Either the feeding or the exercise,” Brock replied with a smile. “We’ll have to pick up some treats and stuff for training him, though. We’ll have to teach him not to jump on people before the baby alters your balance too much.”

Daisy just laughed, nodding. “You worry too much. I’m sure we’ll all be just fine.” She waited until Brock was distracted with signing paperwork before pushing herself up off the floor. Barely showing and Brock was already becoming as much a mother hen as Jemma ever was.

A short time later they walked out of the vet practice. Daisy held Rufus’s leash, playfully urging the puppy to follow as she walked. Brock had a bag with food dishes, a small “starter bag” of puppy chow, and a handful of other things they would need for the newest addition to their family.

Brock wrapped his free arm around Daisy as she glanced back over her shoulder to see Cal waving at them from the door to the vet’s office. She sniffled, but between Brock and Rufus distracting her she managed to stay calm.

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart. You handled that very well. I’m sorry he’ll never know he’s about to become a grandfather, though. That our little one won’t know our parents.”

Daisy looked at Brock and then down to the end of the street. A black SUV was parked at the corner and Phil leaned against the side of the vehicle, waiting for them with a smile. “It’s okay. They may not ever know my parents, or yours. But I think Grandpa Phil and Granny Melinda will be plenty enough for anyone. I certainly won’t be able to stop them from spoiling the children; I hear that’s what grandparents are best at.”

Brock nodded, laughing. He stood back and watched as Phil folded Daisy gently into his arms, then pulled back and touched her belly lightly in greeting. “I think you’re right, sweetheart,” he murmured softly. “I think you’re right.”

**The End (finally)**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Ozhawk’s Final Author Note:_ **
> 
> **WELL. This is by FAR the longest thing I’ve ever completed. And, in my opinion, the best. It would never have been possible without Lady Winterlight, the best damn writing partner I could have asked for. We started writing way back on April 1st, so it’s been over 6 months, over 200,000 words and what I can only call a labour of love. We’ve turned into braintwins on opposite sides of the world in the process, and we’re certainly not done writing together yet.**
> 
> **For those of you who have fallen as in love with Brock and Skye/Daisy as we have… don’t worry. We’re not finished with this couple yet, either of us. There are several things under plan which you’ll see starting to appear over the next few months that we’ll hope you enjoy, and much to my personal joy, others are starting to write Rumlow porn as well so it’s not all up to us any more!**
> 
> **And now it’s over, we’d REALLY love to hear what you thought. Which was your favourite part? Was the ending everything you hoped for? Do you want a redeemed!Rumlow of your own? (I certainly do!)**
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> **_Winterlight’s Final Author Note:_ **
> 
> **I have to agree with Ozhawk that this is the best work I’ve ever completed. I’m not sure which is longer, this or “Bring Me Into The Light” - but that was a very long time ago.**
> 
> **Six months, more than 200,000 words and 500 pages in Docs later have gained me a wonderful new friend and co-author in Ozhawk, and a braintwin such as I’ve never had before. It has been an amazing experience, learning to work together despite the HUGE time difference. But we’ve made it work for us, and I have to say that Oz is the best writing partner I’ve ever had.**
> 
> **Many thanks must also go out to all of our faithful readers and commenters. We wrote the story for ourselves, but the wonderful feedback has made it so much more rewarding. We really would love to hear what you think. Share with us something you loved or something you hated. Something that made you laugh or something that made you cry. I know I had tears in my eyes over the last conversation between Skye and Cal, or when Skye and May made up on the _Iliad_. So what was yours?**
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**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Banner for 'For Want of a Nail'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505277) by [CeliaEquus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeliaEquus/pseuds/CeliaEquus)




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